Falling in Love with a Girl
by sienna27
Summary: Universe A: Story 1 of 3 - This is the prequel to The Hours. My version of their lives in canon starting with meeting when Hotch worked for her mother, taking them through mid Season 4
1. Boy Meets Girl

**Author's Note**:

This is a prequel to my other story, The Hours. It is not at all necessary to read that story to follow this one. In fact, if you haven't read The Hours yet, then I would suggest you start here instead for it all to fall together.

This story, "Falling in Love with a Girl," rolls back the clock to the very beginning of Hotch and Emily's first meeting when he was working security for her mother. That's canon, the actual circumstances of the meeting, that's all me. From there it will jump ahead to Emily's first day at the BAU and continue through, God help me, every episode for the past three years.

Starting with the season finale events in New York, the story will go completely AU, though I will still incorporate events of all the season 4 episodes through "Normal." The Hours picks up the end of December 2008. In my mind, Lo-Fi and Mayhem took place in May, so that leaves six months of AU as I slowly build up their relationship from friendly colleagues to the complete and utter devotion stage.

I will reference the episode title with every chapter, though every chapter is structured differently. There are pre-eps, post-eps, missing scenes, sometimes just internal commentary during scenes we did see, and sometimes a little bit of everything. Whatever struck me as working best within that storyline, so there are not necessarily recaps of the events in each episode. Therefore it may be helpful to refresh your memory about the episode before you read the chapter. If you actually have a life it would be hard to quickly fit in viewing time for 100 hours of programming, but I can suggest a website, tv . com that has awesomely detailed recaps which have been very helpful for me. But you know, it's your life, do what you want :)

If you followed me over here from the original Hours, thanks! And if you read the sneak preview chapters last week, you might notice this is a slightly different version. I tweaked it a bit. It's better :)

* * *

_I used to think of all the billions of people in the world, and of all those people, how was I going to meet the right ones? The right ones to be my friends, the right one to be my husband. Now I just believe you meet the people you're supposed to meet. - - Northern Exposure, The Quest_

_A beautiful girl walked into your life. You fell in love. – Northern Exposure, The Big Kiss_

* * *

_July 1995_

**Boy Meets Girl**

Aaron Hotchner was annoyed.

Not that anyone looking at him would know it . . . his poker face was pretty good . . . but he was ready to bang his head against the wall. This week he'd started working the new security detail for Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss. He was only thirty two and this was one of his first major command assignments since he'd started with the FBI.

He really needed it to go well.

Unfortunately though, Ambassador Prentiss was proving herself to be somewhat 'prickly' on a few points of general procedure. The problem was that she was just very much accustomed to being oversees and doing things how she wanted to do them. And the State Department employees . . . of course . . . fell into line.

But the FBI had their own way of doing things.

And even if Aaron was inclined to try to be accommodating, most of those 'things' weren't up for debate. And he was attempting to respectfully get that point across . . . the non-debatable points . . . without upsetting the Ambassador in the process.

It had been a somewhat stressful evening.

But the woman had a great number of connections in Washington, and if she wasn't happy with him when this review was over, it was not going to bode well for his future at the Bureau.

So at present it was now nine o'clock, and he was sitting in the drawing room of the Prentiss estate, nodding politely as he was lectured by the Ambassador on point of procedure that she wasn't entirely pleased about.

This was why he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

He should have been done with work hours ago. Which meant that he had a wife at home that was . . . somewhat impatiently . . . waiting for him to take her out to eat. And the reason that he knew the waiting was going somewhat impatiently, was because they'd had specific plans for dinner in town that night.

He'd had to call two hours ago and cancel.

He'd hated to do it . . . it had taken Haley two weeks to get that reservation . . . and though she tried to cover it up, he knew that she'd been a bit annoyed at the last minute change. But of course she was still adjusting to the idea of the hours he was working at the Bureau. When they got married, he had just graduated from law school and the FBI had not been in his plans then.

His wife had signed on for a life with a federal prosecutor, not a federal agent. And the hours and the workload between the two jobs were _quite_ different. But she'd been supportive of his choices, even though he knew she was struggling with how much of an upheaval it had been to how their life had been before.

Aaron was sure though that these were just some minor bumps, every marriage had them. And he'd only stopped by the Ambassador's home today to pick up the list of internal domestic help.

That was six hours ago.

Foolishly he'd assumed that he'd be in and out the door . . . the Ambassador had other ideas.

But now after finishing yet another polite . . . yet slightly tense . . . conversation with her as they walked to the front hall, he was finally on his way home. The last thing he said before she turned back into the main house, was to promise that he'd have the information that she requested by ten a.m. tomorrow morning. And that meant . . . he winced internally . . . that he was going to have to be at the office no later than 6:30 a.m to pull it all together.

Great.

As the Ambassador disappeared back into the sitting room, Aaron turned to hurry down the front hall. He was trying to get away before she thought of 'just one more thing agent.'

The way his day was going, the one more thing was going to be his resignation from this assignment.

So finally . . . clenching his jaw . . . he yanked the front door open.

Whoa!

There was a very beautiful . . . very _familiar_ . . . face on the other side.

A face which was now colliding into him, exhaling a surprised puff of peppermint, as the girl attached to it stumbled into the doorway. He hurriedly put his hand out to catch her, simultaneously biting his lip to keep from smiling.

He wasn't comfortable expressing emotions like that in public. But God . . . his mouth quivered slightly . . . the look on her face was absolutely adorable.

_Did he say adorable? He was married! And though it wasn't specifically covered, he was pretty sure that there was an implied covenant about not referring to any other women as 'adorable,' even if it was just in his own head. _

Seven years in, and this was the first time that the issue had come up.

Either way though, he DEFINITELY shouldn't be thinking of the Ambassador's DAUGHTER, as adorable! He didn't know her name, but he had recognized her as such from a few of the photographs in the house.

Photographs . . . he realized as he cataloged her wavy hair and creamy skin . . . that didn't do her justice at all.

And wait, what was he DOING noticing anything wavy or creamy? And how long had he been staring at her like a buffoon? Fifteen seconds, twenty?

Either way that was fourteen or nineteen seconds too long.

So he broke his unintentional reverie by giving her fingers a polite squeeze goodbye. Then he tipped his head before cutting passed her to go to the car.

_Don't look back, don't look back, you are a happily married man with a beautiful wife waiting for you at home. So you definitely do NOT need to look back at the pretty girl. _

Okay . . . he turned his head . . . well, just once to make sure that she got inside okay.

His brow wrinkled slightly.

What was she doing just standing there? Does she not know how dangerous it was for a woman to be out alone at night? Nice neighborhood or not, there were a lot of bad people in the world. But he had no authority over her, so he really wasn't in any position to be lecturing her.

That _said_ . . . he realized as he turned to climb into the car . . . the one thing he could do, was wait in the driveway until she was safely inside. And fortunately the windows were tinted so she couldn't see him sitting there doing absolutely nothing except looking out at her.

_All right, she's STILL standing there. What is she DOING?_

Okay . . . Aaron blew out a puff of air . . . finally! In she goes.

Seeing the door pull shut, he finally started the ignition.

And as he pulled out of the driveway, he thought with a smile how nice it would be to see Haley. He'd left before seven that morning so he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

The next thought he had . . . the one that came to him as he pulled into traffic . . . was to make a mental note to check with the ambassador in the morning to confirm the name of the girl that he'd seen tonight. After all, he was just going on the supposition that was the daughter.

He didn't know for sure.

And given that he was now in charge of security procedures, he had a right, no . . . he shook his head . . . a _duty_, to know the names of all the people that had been issued keys to the family home.

With that last thought, Aaron bore left off the main street in Kalorma to merge into the Thursday night traffic that would lead him back out to the Beltway.

* * *

_A/N 2: I'm posting the companion chapter to this simultaneously simply because I think they flow best as a set. But fair warning, this is it for double postings for a LONG time. I have a lot of chapters done, but my muse has not addressed all of the season 2 eps yet so until those are finished, I need to keep this moving at a slow pace. As of right now I do expect to be able to post daily for at least a week or so, but I can't promise how long that will last. This story, unlike the last one is very far from being finished._

_Next up: "Girl Meets Boy"_


	2. Girl Meets Boy

_July 1995_

**Girl Meets Boy**

Emily Prentiss was pissed.

Tommy McCarthy. That stupid, immature bonehead. What the hell had she been THINKING agreeing to go out with him?

But . . . she rolled her eyes . . . after four years at Yale, internships every summer and an eighteen month fellowship at the Sorbonne, she'd needed a little break. And she was only home . . . i.e. at her mother's house . . . for three weeks between graduation, and her departure for the graduate study program in Cairo.

She _was_ only twenty four though, and she had realized when she was renewing her passport the other day, that maybe she should try to have at least ONE stupid fun night out before she started off on the next phase of her life. After all, she was becoming a 'grown-up,' and there wouldn't be much time for fun when that process was complete.

At least not given the plans that she'd made for herself.

As soon as she finished this graduate program, she was going to apply for admittance to the FBI. With the degrees she was piling up, and her linguistic background, she thought that she had a pretty decent shot.

And though she was looking forward to these next 'adult' phases of her life, it was a little bit frightening just how quickly the years were passing. And she was letting them go by without so much as a country square dance under her belt.

Well, not that she knew anyone that had actually thrown a _square dance_ . . . and she wasn't so sure she would have enjoyed one even if she had . . . but the point was the same either way. She needed to live a little.

And Tommy McCarthy . . . the McCarthys being old friends of the family . . . had apparently read her mind from three towns away. He'd called her up that afternoon with an, "Emmy baby, I heard you were in town! What say we hit the Stones tonight?"

It should be noted here that Tommy was kind of an idiot . . . years of blueblood inbreeding was Emily's theory on that . . . but he was a harmless enough idiot. Generally. And he did have an extra ticket to see the Stones. So she figured, hey, what the hell?

Famous last words.

The night had started out well enough. First thing, she had told Tommy that rather than him picking her up, that she'd just meet him at Wolf Trapp. She had learned a great deal of self sufficiency from her years abroad, and because of that, she never allowed herself to be dependent on somebody else if she could help it.

And driving all the way out to Vienna without knowing that she could leave under her own power, _definitely_ fell under the category of 'dependent on somebody else.' And her control freak tendencies had actually turned out to be quite fortuitous tonight, because it turned out that Tommy had been doing shots before she arrived. And he continued doing them AFTER she arrived.

He was completely trashed by the second set.

At first she tried to just ignore his drunken idiocy, but then he started picking a fight with the two guys in front of them. As the first droplet of blood hit the ground . . . spilled out of Tommy's rapidly swelling nose . . . she'd decided that she had enough "fun" for one night. So she stole Tommy's keys from his pocket, muttered that she had a headache and left him there licking his wounds and muttering something about getting a beer.

She wasn't even sure if he noticed she was gone.

Either way, before she actually left the concert venue, she stopped to hand his keys over the security desk. And then she'd waited while they put them in an envelope with Tommy's full name and phone number on it.

The name and phone number came along with a big block letter advisory that the keys were not to be given to the owner until morning.

She might have had her own ride home but Emily still didn't want Tommy slamming into a tree. Or God forbid a nice family of four on the way home from Grandma's.

That shit wasn't happening on her watch.

So now she was on her way home . . . tired, hungry and oh so cranky. With one hand on the steering wheel, she grabbed a roll of lifesavers out of the outside pocket of her purse with the other.

She popped a green one into her mouth.

Now hopefully . . . she dropped the roll back into her bag . . . that would hold her until she could check the fridge and see if Ingrid had left a plate for her. Ingrid had been with her mother for years and she was always good to Emily. Often leaving her leftovers even if she wasn't expected for dinner. And she and Tommy were supposed to have eaten after the concert. And because of that skipped meal, her fake headache had now turned to a real one that she chalked up to the lack of food in her system.

Her blood sugar was probably low.

As Emily turned into the long, circular driveway of the house in Kalorma, her headlights flashed over a black sedan that hadn't been parked there when she left late that afternoon.

Hmmm.

After she'd parked, and got out of the car, Emily locked the doors and tossed her keys into her bag. Then she walked over to the sedan to see if she recognized it.

Her brow wrinkled . . . government plates. Had her mother been expecting someone?

Oh, that's right . . . she nodded slightly as an errant thought popped into her head . . . there was a new security detail starting. An agent . . . Ha, Hue, eh, no, wait.

Hotchner!

That was it. Agent Something Hotchner. She had been hoping to have left for Egypt before he'd arrived so she hadn't been paying that close attention to his name. But of course years of diplomatic training had ensured that she remembered it correctly nonetheless.

Regardless though, the car . . . Emily started digging into her bag as she crossed over to the front walk . . . probably belonged to him. And no offense to the guy personally . . . she didn't even know him . . . but really she didn't want anything to do with the security review. She'd had quite enough of people poking into all aspects of her life for her first eighteen years on the planet.

Which was why she'd been home so infrequently since then.

Okay . . . she rolled her eyes as she refocused on her direct problem at the moment . . . now WHY had she thrown her keys BACK into her bag after she locked the car? Like she wasn't going to need them forty five seconds later? Idiot.

Oh . . . wait . . . she shoved her wallet to the side . . . yes!

The discovery of her missing keys came simultaneous to Emily's arrival at the portico door. And she rather awkwardly tried to pull the keys out from the depths of her bag, and slide them into the lock with one fluid movement.

It would have worked too, if not for the door suddenly swinging backwards, and then her finding herself staring into the handsomest face . . . and hands down the best CHEEKBONES . . . that she'd seen outside of a James Bond movie.

Actually they were WAY better than Bond!

And Emily had just enough time to mentally register a _'whoa!'_ before continuing her forward momentum over the threshold as she went flying into the now gaping space where the solid oak door had been a moment before.

She would have fallen right onto the marble entryway if a hand hadn't shot out and caught her.

The Hand was attached to The Face. It was a nice hand too.

Not as good as The Face . . . NOTHING was as good as The Face . . . but still it was strong and muscular, and there were lean fingers gripping hers.

And they were still gripping hers, and she was most definitely steady on her own two feet now.

Emily looked up to see the man's mouth was twitching . . . clearly he'd found her standard Grace Kelly entrance amusing.

As she stared into his eyes . . . the darkest brown that she'd ever seen . . . she was about to say hello, when he suddenly squeezed her fingers. Then he tipped his head before stepping past her over the threshold.

She turned to watch him go down the front walk and go over to the black sedan parked ahead of hers on the circular drive. There he paused for a moment, giving a quick glance over to the well lit doorway where she was standing. Three seconds later . . . and yes, she was counting . . . he turned, unlocked the car, and got inside.

But still he didn't start the motor right away.

Emily watched him a moment longer . . . okay, maybe like twenty seconds longer . . . and then she realized what she was doing.

Staring like a buffoon.

So she quickly stepped inside the house, shut the door and twisted the dead bolt. Then she leaned back against the door thinking about that moment when he'd taken her hand. And then he'd pressed her fingers gently.

She sighed.

_'GOD DAMN WEDDING RING! AAAAAAHHH!'_

* * *

_A/N: That's it folks! The first two chapters, please let me know what you think. And don't forget, I'm always and forever looking for prompts. I'm using these chapters as a vehicle to smooth out the rough edges of Hotch and Em's early days (like Quantum Leap – "righting what once went wrong!") so if there's something you'd like to see addressed, please drop me a line. I may have already covered it, in which case I'll let you know, but if I haven't then I'll be happy to see what I can do to accommodate you :)_


	3. Girl Meets Boy, Again

**Author's Note**: The story now picks up on Emily's first day. This chapter is completely from Emily's point of view, the next one will be completely from Hotch's.

And I forgot to mention yesterday that this story, like the last, is once again being beta'd by the lovely Arcadya. Yay!

* * *

_Episode – The Last Word_

**Girl Meets Boy, Again **

_'What the hell was going on around here?'_

Emily was standing like an idiot in front of Aaron Hotchner's doorway, watching herself get the evil eye from not only Hotchner himself, but also . . . if her memory served correctly from last year's news coverage . . . the legendary Jason Gideon. It was like she was in Bizarro World. Though her day had started off so well.

And she'd been so excited!

She had woken up early, and when picking out her outfit she'd opted to take the opportunity to wear a skirt (a rarity) given that it was her first day, and therefore unlikely that she'd be in the field. Then she'd very _carefully_ applied her makeup . . . not too much, didn't want anyone thinking the new girl was tarted up . . . before hauling her box of office brick a brack off the coffee table and leaving for the forty plus minute trek to Quantico.

It was her first assignment at the Academy, and given that she'd just moved into her condo over the weekend . . . and had been busy with all of the utility/house setting up stuff . . . she hadn't had a chance to meet her new supervisor yet.

And until this moment of semi-public humiliation, she'd been really looking forward to that meeting.

Because when she'd finished taking all of the behavioral classes, and her transfer had finally gone through, she'd started researching her new colleagues at the BAU. And it had been with some amusement when she'd realized that the unit chief was in fact the same man . . . the same incredibly attractive, _married_ man . . . that she'd met at her mother's house while he was on assignment there so many years ago. Oddly enough, she always flashed on that night when they started running trailers for new James Bond movies.

That Damn Face was burned into her memory.

Either way, she hadn't thought about him in a few years. Maybe because they stopped making Bond films for awhile after 9/11. But then she'd seen that she was going to be working for him . . . and remembering that night again when they'd first met . . . she'd been kind of excited beyond just the huge new career path thing.

And that was because . . . though her transitory physical attraction for him had come and gone by the time she'd left for Egypt . . . he had seemed nice. Okay, granted they hadn't actually _spoken_ . . . and really had only interacted for about thirty seconds . . . but Emily was a good judge of character. And she was convinced that he was a nice man.

Besides, her mother had actually spoken _well_ of him, and if that wasn't a testament to his abilities Emily didn't know what was. Not to mention that there was no way that he'd be running one of the most elite units in the bureau if he wasn't DAMN good at his job. So there were a lot of pluses in the column of being in Aaron Hotchner's unit.

She'd hoped to learn a lot from him.

So she had arrived at Quantico in good spirits. And after getting slightly lost looking for visitor's parking . . . she had no permanent parking permit yet . . . she'd dragged her box into the building and headed directly over to Human Resources to pick up her official first day papers. After that she was off to Operations to make sure her ID was properly coded for access to get her everywhere that her new job was supposed to take her. And then FINALLY . . . with a metaphorical spring in her step . . . she'd headed up to her first day with the BAU. She'd popped her head into Hotchner's office, they'd shaken hands, and overall . . . in retrospect . . . everything had been going quite well with him for the first thirty, perhaps even forty five seconds.

Because to her amazement, he had remembered her too!

And that was really nice. So she had at least felt a little less silly about her brief memories of him still sticking with her after all this time. But then sociable reminiscing turned to incredibly awkward present day as it became apparent that Hotchner actually didn't know why the hell she was standing in his office. And THAT was when Emily had started to feel like she'd just walked into the Twilight Zone.

She had her paperwork, it was signed by the section chief . . . she'd MOVED halfway across the country for God's sake . . . and two minutes in on what she thinks is her first day on this great new job, she's inexplicably getting the bum's rush from a man . . . who may have recalled her fondly from before . . . but clearly wanted absolutely NOTHING to do with her now.

And she had no idea why.

And she watched as Gideon spared her one more suspicious glance, and then she stood there . . . feeling perplexed and stupid . . . wondering what the hell she should do.

Well . . . she took a breath . . . first things first, get out of Hotchner's office before somebody who definitely DID work in this unit _asked_ her to get out of his office. That would just add to the public humiliation of the day thing.

So Emily stepped into the hall and slowly exhaled.

Okay, so now what was the best approach to resolving this fiasco. Clearly this was just some kind of mix-up and when Hotchner got back from wherever he had just run off to, she'd have it all sorted out.

Right . . . she nodded to herself . . . just a mix-up. But she needed a 'base' to work this mix-up out. So she started by asking someone in the Unit where the cafeteria was.

And then she settled in down there with a coffee, her box and her cell phone.

It took about an hour on the phone, but finally she was able to get a live person to speak with her at the main Personnel office in Washington. And Mrs. Janetti confirmed that yes, indeed, there was no question whatsoever that Supervisory Special Agent Emily Rose Prentiss had been _officially_ transferred to the Behavioral Analysis Unit located at the main academy campus.

She had them check that last part twice just in case she'd completely lost her mind and there was some other satellite unit that she hadn't known existed.

But once she was assured that a) she wasn't nuts, and b) that whatever the mixup was, it was totally on Hotchner's side, Emily tossed out her cold coffee and marched back up to the BAU. The wind was taken slightly out of her sails when she was intercepted in Hotchner's doorway by a blonde in a rather colorful outfit, telling her that he . . . and his team . . . were gone. And not just gone, but long gone. Two or three days at least.

UNFLIPPINGBELIEVABLE!

The blonde . . . Penelope Garcia, as she identified herself . . . took note of her reaction to that news (crestfallen didn't begin to cover it) and seemed to take pity on her. And once Emily gave her a brief rundown of the situation, the Garcia woman had eyed her up and down before muttering, "I suppose you'll do." And then she told her to scribble down her cell number and she'd call her when they were on their way home.

Then she'd grinned as Emily was digging out her pen, telling her it was best to, "ambush 'Hotch' . . ." (nickname for Hotchner presumably) "when he first arrived back from the joust and there were possibly chinks in his otherwise unchinkable armor."

And Emily had smiled to herself as she scribbled down her number . . . she liked this woman. Which was a good thing, because she was running pretty short on allies so far. So she'd handed over her number, dragged her box back out to her car, and driven off for a three hours early dinner of a half bottle of cheap wine, and two pounds of comfort Chinese food.

And that was her first day on the job.

A rather inauspicious one if she did say so herself. But she resolved to make day two plus whatever date she was no longer a BAU orphan, at least slightly more productive.

So every day after that, she came in with her box and settled into a corner of the cafeteria with a coffee, a little pack of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies, and her laptop. And there she reviewed all of the BAU case files that her access level would allow her. Hotchner may not have yet considered her as a member of his unit, but the paperwork WAS official, so she didn't feel guilty about reviewing their cases.

Well, not too guilty anyway.

Of course she'd have felt better about it if she knew that she actually had his blessing . . . the Catholic guilt did hit a the oddest times . . . but hopefully that would be coming in a few days.

And the days were passing quickly. Though by day four she was getting a bit desperate for anything else to do. She'd spent at least forty of the prior seventy-two hours doing nothing but sit alone as she looked over at crime scene photos, autopsy reports and case evals. And with essentially no other human interaction . . . the twice daily polite nod with the janitor who swept the cafeteria didn't really count . . . she was getting pretty emotionally drained. But that was fortunately the day that she received the call from Garcia.

The team was due back that night.

So Emily loaded up on extra coffee and cookies to ensure that she could put in a full fifteen hour day. And when she felt that the time was getting close for their arrival, she went back up to wait in Hotchner's office.

It was the first time that she'd been in there since he'd left. And at that point, everyone else in their bullpen had gone for the day, so when one of the overnight people from the mail room came looking for Hotchner, she ended up taking custody of an urgent file that had just arrived for him.

After the kid had gone, she held the folder in her hand for a moment as she debated with herself.

And then she said screw it, and took a quick peek.

Oh . . . her eyes lit up as she slipped the paperwork out . . . a new referral! This was EXACTLY the break that she needed! Before the folder showed up, Emily had just been nervously pacing around the office. But now that she had a file . . . and a real plan to prove herself . . . she settled in on Hotchner's couch. And that's when started putting together a profile on her first NON-official case.

And that was her fourth day on the job._  
_

* * *

_A/N 2: You'll notice there's a boy/girl theme to the first few chapter titles. That continues until I get their relationship on an even keel :)_

_Tomorrow: "Boy Meets Girl, Again"_


	4. Boy Meets Girl, Again

**Author's Note:** As promised, Hotch's take on Emily's first day . . . and then her fourth.

* * *

_Episode – The Last Word  
_

**Boy Meets Girl, Again **

Hotch was dragging coming back from St. Louis.

Two serials operating in the same city, Christ, he did NOT want to do that again. Things might have turned in their favor there at the end, but still, it didn't change the fact that all of those women were dead. And somehow even worse than them being murdered for the 'usual' arbitrary reasons, here they knew for a fact that many of them had been killed simply out of a perverse sense of competition by a couple of pathetic psychopaths.

He grunted slightly to himself as he hurried across the bullpen.

Every time he thought that he'd seen everything, something worse came along. How many more years was that going to keep happening? Would there always be a new breed of psychopath or sociopath coming down the pike?

The thought was pretty horrifying.

Hotch's thoughts on that point stuttered to a halt as he noticed the light was on in his office. His brow wrinkled faintly as he continued jogging up the stairs.

Did he actually leave his office light on the whole time that he was gone?

Yeah . . . he huffed to himself as he stepped over the threshold . . . that's really responsible Aaron.

And then he stopped short.

_What the hell was the ambassador's daughter doing here?_

"Please tell me that you haven't been here for the last four days?" He asked drily.

After the Agent Prentiss had assured him that she had NOT in fact set up camp in his office for the last ninety six hours, she started to plead her case again.

He only just barely bit back the groan on the tip of his tongue.

He just wasn't up for this debate at the moment. Though admittedly, he actually had been _genuinely_ pleased to see her the other morning. He hadn't recognized her immediately of course . . . it had been thirteen years . . . but as soon as she'd said her name, he'd flashed on that night at her mother's. In fact, he'd almost blurted out, "you changed your hair!" but fortunately he'd caught his tongue.

It would have been unfortunate to have to ship himself off to sexual harassment training.

Because really it was one thing to vaguely remember someone that you met briefly a decade ago. It was another thing ENTIRELY to have total recall on the outfit that person was wearing, and what the person smelled like at the time of that thirty second meeting. That could be seen as maybe a little 'unsettling.'

Okay, it could have been seen as downright creepy.

At least from her perspective. So he'd engaged in a bit of misdirection by pretending to remember the wrong university for her. Again, believing that too many correct details might have made her uncomfortable.

And initially it was really nice to see her . . . to see how she had turned out . . . but his mood quickly changed to a suspicious wariness as he realized that they weren't in the midst of just a pleasant, random, encounter. She was there to start work. And he had certainly _not_ approved any transfer for a new agent. And remembering then the political connections of her mother, he realized that it was quite possible that he was being manipulated.

And THAT was something that he did not tolerate.

So he'd politely told Agent Prentiss, that it was nice to see her again, but there wasn't any opening. She'd been misinformed. And he knew that he'd left her gaping in the doorway . . . and he knew that it was unlikely that simply 'dismissing her' was going to be the end of the whole damn mess . . . but he hadn't had time for any more discussion on the matter.

Not given the urgency of their case.

Well cases, really. But he hadn't known that at the time. Still though, he'd run her name by Gideon on their way out the door. Because though this was Aaron's unit now, Gideon still held signatory authority for transfers.

But Jason denied any knowledge of her either.

So he had no idea how she'd turned up on his doorstep. But now here she was again . . . he sighed to himself . . . back in his office, hitting him when his defenses were down. Again, he hadn't really expected that she would just "disappear," but he had thought that he'd have at least a night's rest before he had to deal with her again.

He just did not have the energy for this fight right now.

But it was own fault for even coming back to the office. After they'd landed, he'd sent the team home immediately from the tarmac. And he should have just headed straight home himself.

Haley knew that he was on his way back and she was waiting for him.

But he had just wanted to grab a file. The one . . . his attention refocused on the woman across the room . . . that Prentiss was now talking about. He'd received a fax copy of that case on the jet, and he'd wanted to take it home with him to study the crime scene photos.

God . . . he listened to her rattle off her conclusions . . . her profile was dead on.

That was exactly what he had come up with on the plane, except he'd missed the reference to a ladies' night. Maybe it was just because he was half asleep, but he'd missed it.

And she hadn't.

When she finished speaking . . . practically reading his mind with the comment about her parents . . . he just stood there looking at her, so determined and earnest. And thinking back to the other morning, he realized that she _had_ seemed genuinely confused as to why he hadn't been expecting her.

So maybe this wasn't her fault.

Because given the quality of the profile that she'd just given, it was entirely probable that he would have approved her transfer if the papers had actually come across his desk. So why would this woman have sidestepped proper channels . . . and risked completely alienating her new unit chief . . . to get a transfer that she clearly wanted, and was more than capable of receiving entirely on her own merits?

His gaze shifted over her impassioned stance and the slight moisture in her eyes.

She wouldn't have.

It might have been a clerical oversight, or maybe somebody was pulling strings on her behalf, but either way, he was pretty sure that she was as much in the dark about what had happened with her paperwork as he was.

And he _was_ down an agent.

Oh . . . he felt his countenance softening . . . what the hell. At least she didn't look like the type to shoot somebody in a motel parking lot. But if she _was_ the type to shoot somebody in a motel parking lot, he needed to have time to work that point out.

So he tipped his head as he stated cautiously.

"I still need to look into this, I'm not promising anything."

Hotch could see Prentiss' eyes pop and her breath visibly release as she responded with a quick, "understood." As though she were afraid that he'd change his mind.

So then he continued with the practical matters. Things that they would have discussed if he actually HAD hired her the other day.

"We brief new cases every morning at ten am," he said. Then he added, "you can see Facilities Management about a desk."

Prentiss then quickly assured him that he wouldn't be sorry, as she grabbed her things and practically ran out the door. He noted with a faint bit amusement that it was clear she didn't want to push her luck by sticking around any longer.

Smart woman, he'd give her that.

So after he'd turned off the lamp and grabbed the file that he'd come back for, the one . . . he noted as he looked down at her notes . . . that had probably saved her job, he stuffed it into his briefcase with an amused shake of his head.

_'Well, this should be interesting.'_

* * *

_In the first couple of chapters I wanted to establish clearly where each of them were coming from, but I'll start doing my usual rotation of viewpoints in the chapters fairly soon. _

_Tomorrow: "Boy Gives Girl a Chance"_


	5. Boy Gives Girl a Chance

**Author's Note:** This was a hard one, what with them being in two different countries for most of the episode. So I just went with straight internal commentary from Hotch during the opening scene.

One line of dialogue from the script in here, and I forgot to mention there were like three lines in the last chapter that were from the show. Basically if you've seen the episode you know which ones are mine, and which ones are theirs :)

* * *

_Episode – Lessons Learned_

**Boy Gives Girl A Chance**

Hotch sat there in astonishment as Agent Prentiss proceeded to seamlessly translate the confidential intelligence that they had received, from its original Arabic and into English. And then not only _that_ . . . which would have been impressive enough . . . but she then went on to give cultural insights into the usage of the phrases in the file.

Now this . . . he thought with some degree of excitement . . . THIS was a skill that could definitely come in handy today!

And that was because this was NOT the type of UNSUB that they usually profiled. The FBI had spent millions of dollars funding the Counterterrorism Unit specifically . . . obviously . . . to "_counter_ terrorism." So for the BAU to be pulled in now . . . or really at any point . . . Hotch knew that they'd reached the 'hail mary pass' stage.

Basically things were pretty fucked.

Nobody had any idea what was going on, and if the intelligence community dropped the ball now like they had before 9/11, Hotch couldn't even imagine what the consequences would be. So every scrap of information that they could compile, was hopefully going to help get them from "absolutely nowhere" . . . where they were now . . . to "somewhere."

Where they hoped to be before the shit hit the fan.

And apparently his new agent was going to be in a position to help get them just a bit closer to somewhere. Thank God, because they really didn't have much else to go on at the moment.

And thinking back over what he knew of Prentiss' background, he remembered that her mother had been fairly proficient in a few languages. Apparently the Ambassador must have felt that it was important for her daughter be multilingual as well. Which was actually a fortunate development regardless of the urgency of this case. Because nobody else on the team had any 'notable' linguistic ability.

Of course most of them had taken high school Spanish or French, and Hotch had taken Latin to help with law school, but whatever secondary languages they had once studied, were all rusty now with disuse. What was the phrase? "Use it or lose it."

Well, they'd pretty much lost it.

Though it was true that Reid could often help with context or historical significance of phrases in other languages, for some reason, he had never focused his expansive intellectual capabilities into actually mastering another 'complete' language. Actually Hotch had to suppress a shudder at the thought of Spencer being able to pontificate for hours on end while switching from language to language.

Morgan might actually shoot him.

As the meeting then started to break up with everyone hurrying off to their respective assignments, Hotch jumped up to chase after Gideon.

He knew that Jason wasn't going to be happy about the suggestion he was going to make, but, well, he'd just have to deal with it. This was his unit now, not Gideon's.

He was in charge.

Still though, Hotch decided to take the soft sell approach. Let the man think he actually had a choice in the matter.

Which he didn't.

"I think you should take Prentiss with you to Guantanamo."

And (of course) Gideon immediately pushed back.

Why did he ALWAYS have to bristle at change? 'New' didn't necessarily mean 'bad.' And Hotch had checked Prentiss out, even if he hadn't received a copy beforehand, her paperwork really _was_ in order. And she was in fact . . . on paper . . . MORE than qualified to be in the unit.

So how the hell were they ever going to evaluate her real world skill set, if they never let her out of the penalty box?

Not that Jason could be persuaded by that . . . incredibly OBVIOUS . . . argument. For somebody who enjoyed teaching at the Academy, he could be a real son of a bitch about giving people a chance out in the field. So Hotch defaulted to the most simplistic of the arguments left.

That no other translator they could get in Gitmo would also have studied behavior analysis.

And yet he's STILL looking at him like he's lost his mind! What the HELL was wrong with him? How does he not see how invaluable this combination could be in an interrogation of a . . . thus far . . . unbreakable suspect?

Feeling his patience running dry, Hotch was just about to simply order Jason to take Prentiss with him . . . which would have resulted in a miserable round trip for her, if Gideon didn't just decide to leave the poor woman in one of the cells down there . . . when Jason suddenly noticed that Prentiss had her go bag. And it was clear that she was all ready to travel, before she even knew that she'd be going anywhere.

Preparedness . . . Hotch sighed in relief . . . FINALLY, a quality that Gideon could get behind!

And then Hotch let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw Gideon tell Prentiss that the car was leaving in four minutes. It was still obvious though that her "invitation" was given under protest. So his expression softened in sympathy as Prentiss turned and gave him a small smile of gratitude.

She'd seen them arguing, she knew that she was only going because of him.

And though Hotch was pleased that he'd gotten her on the plane, he knew that she was still in for a rough ride. Which was then that he recalled then the one phrase in Arabic that he knew.

_As-Salamu Alaykum Agent Prentiss,_ Hotch thought as he watched her run after Gideon.

_You're going to need it._

* * *

_A/N 2: If you aren't familiar with American football, a "hail mary pass" is basically a last desperate act when you've run out of other viable options._

_And here's the word "review" in all the languages mentioned in this chapter_, _recenseo,_ يَسْتَعْرِض, _compte_ _rendu y crítica :) _

_Tomorrow: __**"Boy Hates Girl's Guts"**_


	6. Boy Hates Girl's Guts

**Author's Note:** In case you're wondering why there have been no posts, the site has been undergoing 'technical difficulties.' You could read but you couldn't log-in, and if you can't log in, you can't post. But for you guys that means, if the site continues to work properly, I'm actually posting probably two today and two tomorrow :) I wanted to put these next three up in close order anyway because they just flow better that way.

And this little breakdown on the site did at least give me the time to surmount my mid-season two stumbling blocks. Everything in the early days is now knitting together quite nicely. If I can keep moving at this clip then I think we've got smooth sailing ahead and I should be able to continue with daily postings for the foreseeable future. Technical difficulties notwithstanding ;)

This is a trilogy addressing the infamous 'big fight' between Hotch and Em at the beginning of season two. As you can see from the chapter title, I took a unique spin on it. No dialogue here, this is just playing in Hotch's Head :)

* * *

_Episode – Sex, Birth, Death_

**Boy Hates Girl's Guts**

_'Of all the insolent . . .'_

_'Who does she . . .'_

_'What the hell . . .'_

Hotch was having a difficult time finishing any of his thoughts. His mother had taught him that you didn't talk about women like that, and he generally agreed that those types of ruminations directed at the opposite sex were totally unacceptable.

But Agent Prentiss . . . his gaze snapped up to see her in the rearview mirror . . . she was testing EVERY bit of his proper southern gentility.

Questioning him! Questioning HIM about HIS associations!

At a CRIME scene!

It was none of her God damn BUSINESS what the congresswoman wanted to talk about! If anyone should be doing the questioning around here, it was HIM about HER associations. She was the one that showed up out of nowhere with her 'paperwork in order' and then started poking into business that was none of her concern.

HE was the one that should be asking the questions. In fact that's EXACTLY what he was going to do when they got back to the office!

_If_ they got back to the office.

WHOA!

Almost missed that red light . . . and given the look of terror on Reid's face a moment ago . . . they might have skidded through the last yellow one. He bit his lip . . . maybe he should have given the keys to somebody else.

Basic rule "don't drive angry."

But that's okay . . . he relaxed his hands slightly on the steering wheel . . . he wasn't angry any longer. He had a plan now, he would deal with this. Prentiss would know her place, that this type of _insubordination_ was not tolerated, and if she wanted to REMAIN with the team . . . his grip tightened . . . then she'd do well to REMEMBER that fact!

Oh . . . his eyes wideneed Crosswalk! CROSSWALK!

SHIT!

Pheww.

_All right Reid, enough. We didn't "hit the wheelchair," you can calm down now. Stop ripping out your hair. And maybe unclench your fingers from my upper thigh, like . . . now. _

_Okay, you stopped pulling out your hair, but the other the hand, still not where it's supposed to be. _

_Still not._

Wait, okay, he's starting to realize . . . and THERE you go!

Good boy.

_No. Don't. Don't apologize. I can see your face in my peripheral vision, your lips want to move, DON'T say it. Let's just not speak of it, ever.  
_

Well good. Apparently his leadership hadn't been COMPLETELY compromised, at least SPENCER understood what was acceptable to mention in mixed company!

Huh.

Okay . . . Hotch recapped to himself . . . he almost just hit an old lady in a wheelchair, and then wanted to yell at Spencer for _considering_ apologizing to him for a _SERIOUS_ violation of personal space. So maybe he was still a _little_ angry about what had happened.

So perhaps it would be best if he waited a bit before he brought Prentiss in to "discuss" this situation.

But either way . . . Hotch rolled his neck from side to side . . . by the end of the day. she'd know how things worked around here.

Now . . . his foot inched down on the gas . . . now where the HELL was their exit?

* * *

_A/N 2: I had no idea what I was going to do with this episode because as far as the H/P ship goes, it's just brutal from beginning to end. In fact, I refused to even WATCH it again because I was afraid it would kill my poor muse dead! So I just went by the recap on that website and decided the only way I could even begin to address this episode was to make it funny. Please let me know what you thought. And remember, there have been no reviews for days folks! I'm dying out here! :)  
_

_Next: __**"Girl Hates Boy's Guts"**_


	7. Girl Hates Boy's Guts

**Author's Note:** Part two of the "Hating of the Guts" chapters. Internal thoughts from Emily and then a post ep missing scene.

FYI - Two Things: If you're not familiar with it, "wishing somebody into the cornfield" is from a Twilight Zone episode where the little boy has special powers and can blink people away who make him angry. And, if you didn't read The Hours, I have Emily's dad working for the CIA.

* * *

_Episode – Sex, Birth, Death_

**Girl Hates Boy's Guts**

_'JACKASS!'_

_'Numbskull!'_

_'$#*!^*'_

As she sat alone at her desk in the bullpen, Emily was _beyond_ pissed and having no trouble whatsoever articulating every minor defect she could mentally catalogue on her boss.

Insufferable. Check.

Know it all. Check.

Um, boring dresser. Check.

Moronic male driver. DOUBLE CHECK!

The idiot almost gotten them killed TWICE coming back from the crime scene that morning! Reid had actually screamed for God's sake. Like a little girl.

Okay . . . her lips twitched for a second . . . that was kind of funny.

But how hard was it to tap the breaks every couple of blocks? RED means stop Hotch! Red means STOP! GREEN means go!

Oh yeah, let's add colorblind to the list. Check!

Who the hell did that asshole think that he was talking to her like that? Like she was a child. Like she was a ROOKIE!

LIKE SHE WAS A SPY!

Well she wasn't any damn spy! _Questioning_ him in front of other agents! She was just making conversation for Christ's sake! Conversation Hotch! Every heard of it? No, of course not, because you'd have to actually INTERACT with other members of society to have a conversation with them!

Ass.

Well . . . she huffed . . . if he thinks treating her like this was going to drive her out of the unit, he had another thing coming. She'd just call daddy and have Hotch wished into the cornfield. How about that Hotch? Would you like to go to the cornfield?

Jerk.

She turned her head . . . just Look at him up there. Just working away like he doesn't even CARE that he was a complete tool to her this afternoon!

Wait . . . her brow wrinkled as her gaze dropped to her desk . . . what the hell was he still doing here? It was like eight o'clock. Didn't he have a baby? He should be home.

He shouldn't let this job take over his life.

For a moment, Emily stared back up at the single glowing lamp on his desk . . . and then the light bulb went off in her own head. And she groaned.

This job _was_ his life.

This job was his life and his livelihood, and he'd seen a threat to it today, and he'd responded. He'd responded BADLY, but . . . she looked back to her desk blotter . . . maybe that was an aberration. Because he had actually been very nice to her since he'd decided that she hadn't pulled any strings on her transfer. _And_ he'd gone to bat for her with Gideon so that she could go to Gitmo. She knew that Gideon hadn't been pleased about that either.

He'd practically bitten her head off on the plane ride down.

But Hotch . . . she remembered back . . . he had given her a little nod when she smiled her thanks at him before they left for that trip. The trip that had at least solidified that she had a role here, that she had something new to bring to the table that maybe the others didn't have.

Hotch was the one that allowed her to prove herself.

Emily started to feel a twinge of Catholic guilt. Damn it. That happened every time she lost her temper. That's why she never did it.

The guilt.

So maybe he was just having a bad day. Maybe he wasn't a _complete_ jackass. She glanced up to his office again . . . maybe . . . but she wasn't quite ready to forgive him yet.

Though perhaps . . . she bit her lip . . . she could not _actively_ hate him for the time being.

And with that, she turned back to her file.

/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch eyed Prentiss through the slits in his blinds.

What was she still doing here? It was eight o'clock for God's sake. Didn't she have a life?

Besides . . . he'd figured given the daggers that she was throwing at him this afternoon . . . she would have been a ghost by 5:01. Well . . . he huffed to himself . . . she could throw all the daggers that she wanted to, she was still in the wrong.

After all, he justified, she was the one that . . . that . . . and he thought back to what she'd done . . . well, she'd asked a completely innocuous question that he probably would have answered if it had come from Morgan or Reid.

Huh.

But no . . . his brow wrinkled . . . wait, later when he'd spoken to her about it she'd been completely, completely . . . bewildered. And then she had given him a very _logical _reason for her familiarity with Representative Steyer.

Huh.

And then after reminding him that her mother was a woman of good character . . . alluding to perhaps her sharing at least some of those same traits . . . she had pretty respectfully defended herself. And she asked if she could just please get back to work.

Feeling wave of shame, Hotch dropped his head to his chest.

Because that's what you did when you didn't do anything wrong and unjust insinuations were being hurled at you by a stressed out man who was having a very bad day. He snapped his jaw.

God, he was such an ass.

His gaze began shifting around his desk. He was looking for, well . . . something.

Something that he could bring as a peace offering.

Oh . . . his eyes widened slightly . . . there, the Kansas City file. That was a hard one. JJ had just handed it to him that afternoon, and he hadn't decided yet if they had a mercy killer, or if it was just a string of tragic coincidences taking place in those nursing homes.

So he'd let her take a crack at it, see what she came up with.

See if that made amends.

He picked it the filed, stood and crossed around his desk.

As he stepped onto the catwalk, Prentiss looked up. And after giving him a slightly wary, "sir" she turned back to her paperwork.

And that's when he felt a real stab of guilt.

_That's some excellent leadership you're demonstrating Aaron. Make her afraid of you. Then she'll feel comfortable coming to you if she has an idea that might crack the case . . . or God forbid . . . an actual problem in the field._

Again, he was such an ass.

"Prentiss?" He called out quietly as he started down the steps.

Emily sucked in a breath before looking back up with what she hoped was a polite expression.

"Yes sir." The tone was a little tight, but not too bad.

"I wanted to give you this file," Hotch said as he continued softly, trying to keep his tone as non-threatening as possible, "it's a possible mercy killer case out in KC." He moved to sit on the corner of her desk as he raised the folder up.

"I thought that you might have some insights."

Emily accepted the file from Hotch's hand, and then flipped open the front cover.

Mercy killer.

Those could be notoriously hard to profile when often all they had to review were a stack of autopsy reports indicating death as "natural causes." So these cases were always reviewed by the senior members of the team first, and she was the low man.

Wait . . . her nose wrinkled slightly . . . was he being . . . nice? As Emily looked between Hotch and the report, she saw him shift slightly. He looked uncomfortable.

So he WAS being nice!

Well . . . damn!

Okay, given that Prentiss' eyes just widened slightly, Hotch figured that she understood the report for what it was . . . an attempt at mending fences.

And now he should probably say something too. He hated this part. And that was because he was . . . with all due modesty . . . hardly every COMPLETELY in the wrong.

But that didn't mean he didn't know what had to be done on the rare occasion when he did royally fuck up.

"Listen," he took a breath, "Prentiss, I might have been a little, um, _hasty_, in my conclusions earlier today. I told you a few weeks ago that I would give you a chance, but if I respond that . . ." he cleared his throat, "'hastily' every time you open your mouth, then you're not going to feel like you can approach me for anything." He gave her a pointed look, "and I _don't_ want that to happen."

Emily looked up, trying to hide her shock.

He had just apologized. He hadn't actually said the word '_sorry_' but it was very clearly an apology nonetheless. The case file was the actual 'sorry.'

She pulled the report more tightly against her chest . . . well, if he wanted to make nice, then she could make nice too. Not just in principle, but in all honesty she really needed this relationship with him to work.

Otherwise her career here was dead in the water.

"And I was just thinking sir, that I might have been a little um," she tipped her head, "_over enthusiastic_ in my response to your . . . _conclusions_."

Hotch's eyes crinkled a bit at Prentiss' reciprocal veiled apology.

"So we're good?" He asked with a faint quirk or his lip.

And the lines in Emily's face softened as she nodded back.

"Yes sir," she gave him a little smile, "we're good."

"Okay then," Hotch stifled a yawn as he stood up, "come on then, I'll walk you out. It's getting late."

All right, one crises resolved . . . they could start fresh tomorrow.

Emily nodded as she turned away to start shutting down her computer.

"Okay, thanks."

As he turned and started up the stairs, she huffed to herself.

_'Hmm, good thing I didn't wish him into the cornfield.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: It seemed logical to me that Hotch, for the reasons I had him articulate, and the fact that in every other episode is always a good guy, would have realized once he calmed down that he had been a jerk to her. I actually thought he was pretty OOC in that episode. Plus they wouldn't have been totally copacetic joking around at the bar like two episodes later if they hadn't smoothed that out somehow. So as far as missing scenes go I consider this one pretty plausible. _

_One part left and a couple of reviews will get the concluding piece of this trilogy up faster . . ._

_Next: __**"Reid's Thoughts on the Car Ride Back"**_


	8. Reid's Thoughts on the Car Ride Back

**Author's Notes**: I'm so going to have to find a way to work "Prentiss get ready to vamp" into the AU world. That was great.

Okay, the conclusion of the 'Gut Hating' chapters. Just a little side note from Spencer, it helps if you remember what Hotch and Emily said took place in the car. Please note, the couples instances of lines in double quotes, that's the stuff he actually screamed out loud.

* * *

_Episode – Sex, Birth, Death_

**Reid's Thoughts On the Car Ride Back**

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!_

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

Oh God, it's yellow, it's yellow. Mazda on the left! Mazda on the LEFT!

_AAAAAAAAAAAH!_

RED! RED! **RED**!

Okay, we're okay. Phew. Deep breaths Spencer, deep breaths. Okay, now we're going fast again.

Faster.

FASTER. WHEELCHAIR!

"WHEELCHAIR!"

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Stop laughing at me Emily. It's NOT funny. Did you want to die today? Because _I_ didn't want to die today!

Oh God, who would clean out my apartment? Oh God, I hope it's not JJ! I have those movies. Oh man, I have to talk to Morgan when we get back. I need to make some arrangements.

Wait . . . why is my hand on Hotch's thigh? Oh God is that his . . .?

OH. MY. GOD.

Just pull it back.

Now, do I apologize? Because that's totally NOT a cool thing for one straight dude to do to another straight dude! Especially when one of those dudes is your boss.

Just glance over. See what's he's doing.

Oh God, his jaw's clenched and he's shaking his head. Okay, just shut up Spencer. Don't say anything. Just forget it ever happened. Okay, it's okay. Deep breath. No harm done. And look he's driving the speed limit, almost.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no!

"CUB SCOUTS!"

* * *

_A/N 2: I have so few opportunities for purely fluffy chapters in season two so I couldn't resist doing Reid. _

_Next: __**"Choices"**_


	9. Choices

**Author's Note**: I'm glad everybody liked the last three :)

This is a post ep, introspectivey chapter. The episode is the one where Morgan gets arrested in Chicago, so obviously no fluffy bits to pull from there.

* * *

_Episode – __Profiler, Profiled_

**Choices**

Hotch couldn't concentrate.

His mind kept going back to Morgan. The things that had happened to him as a boy shaping the choices which eventually molded him into the man that sat before him.

As he considered that, Hotch lifted his head to look around the plane at this disparate group of people. This disparate group who chose to immerse themselves in nightmares beyond the imagination of most people.

Morgan, the one who witnessed the violent death of his father at a young age, and then was sexually abused by an adult in whose care he had been entrusted.

Then Reid, he whose awesome intelligence was so often a handicap for him growing up, stunting him in ways that he didn't even realize at the time. And as a result, in some ways, he was still a boy in a man's body. One that had been emotionally traumatized by both his mother's mental illness, and his father's abandonment.

In his earliest days, Hotch had sometimes worried that this job would burn him out. That he wouldn't be able to find an outlet for the emotional stress.

God knew that Hotch himself hadn't shown him one. But Reid seemed to be adjusting well.

Gideon's influence on him was evident.

And he meant that in a good way.

Speaking of Gideon, Hotch shook his head as he watched him and Spencer playing chess. Hotch still didn't know why Jason had chosen this terrible path, but he did know that he stayed on it now because he was no longer sure that he knew how to do anything else. And Hotch worried about the day that Gideon would try to once again make a choice . . . and to find then that all of the other roads had washed away.

But that was not an outcome he could control. So he shifted his gaze again, this time settling on the long blonde tresses in the corner.

JJ.

She was the girl with an apparently normal upbringing, who was even now working the phone to find them the next case. In some ways she seemed to function on the periphery of the madness, but really, she was the one most touched by the horrors. Because she had to read every file, the desperate detectives who had exhausted their resources . . . but still couldn't let the cases drop. And then she'd flip ahead to the tear stained letters. The ones from the grieving parents who were pleading for someone, anyone, to help them find out what in God's name had happened to their children.

And then she had to choose.

Judge that one person's tragedy was greater than another's. That was God's work, and Hotch didn't envy her having to share His load. Because every day that she came to the office, she had to play Solomon . . . or Sophie. And though Hotch may have been the general of this team, JJ was his most trusted lieutenant.

He couldn't do this job without her.

And the final piece of his motley crew . . . his gaze shifted . . . Prentiss. He watched her as she inconspicuously watched Morgan. But he could see that it wasn't morbid curiosity on her part, she was genuinely concerned about him. From his observations, she did seem to be a genuinely nice person, and she'd demonstrated good work so far. Which was why he regretted that they'd had such a rocky beginning to their relationship.

She had deserved a better welcome.

And she clearly had an aptitude for this vocation, but why had she chosen to do it? He knew her background on paper, but he didn't know what demons drove her . . . though he was quite sure that she had one or two.

They all did.

That's why they were here. That's why _he_ was here. He grew up to catch the monster that slept down the hall, not the one under the bed.

Just then Prentiss seemed to sense him watching her, and she looked up. Their gazes locked for a moment before she blinked and turned to look out the window.

Hotch continued to stare unabashed . . . where did Agent Prentiss' monsters live?

And would she last long enough in the unit for him to find out.

* * *

_A/N 2: In case you haven't read The Hours, the allusion above is that in my universe Hotch was abused by his stepfather. _

_I wrote this a couple weeks ago and then just last night was reading through the recap on the episode "Evilution"and realized Hotch had a similar soliloquy with Strauss. Any similarities are totally unintentional. This style of chapter was the only thing I could think that worked with the episode that would allow me to weave in an H/P thread of any kind. And I haven't seen the episode in a while, but with the exception of JJ (poor JJ - she didn't have much character development back then), I'm fairly sure, based on the recap, that I hit on very different points.  
_

_Next: __**"Acrimony"**_


	10. Acrimony

**Author's Note:** This is a post-ep for the episode in the desert, where Frank makes his first appearance. I'm not a Gideon hater, but I'm not a big fan either. Because let's face it, the man could be a real ass sometimes. Remember he called Garcia stupid earlier in that season? Yes, she'd screwed up royally but his response was really just "uncalled for."

So given how _this_ case played out, I thought this was a fairly realistic run-in.

* * *

_Episode – __No Way Out (1)_

**Acrimony**

Hotch walked into the lobby of the motel just in time to catch the tail end of Gideon ripping into Prentiss.

"It wasn't your decision to MAKE Agent! So it's not really your place to be Monday morning quarterbacking! UNDERSTOOD!"

As he felt his own brow darken . . . he didn't approve of public dressing downs no matter the circumstances . . . Hotch saw Prentiss' eyes flash black for a moment. But she held her temper while responding with a clipped, "understood, sir."

And then Gideon gave her another withering look before stalking out. He was smashing through the front doors as Hotch looked around the crowded entryway.

The rest of the team was scattered in the corners trying to look as though they weren't listening. Derek in particular was not so subtly sending a worried eye in Prentiss' direction.

Hotch looked back and forth . . . what the hell had just happened here?

His jaw tightened as he shifted his bag back on his shoulder. Then he crossed over to Prentiss where she was still standing alone.

Her head was down.

"What was that about?"

As her eyes snapped up to his, Hotch could see the flush to her cheeks and the rigor in her muscles. Then she began slowly working her jaw.

"Nothing sir," she ground out tightly.

Hotch raised his eyebrow . . . she's got to be kidding. So he slowly shook his head.

_Uh, uh, try again._

Emily looked at Hotch for a moment . . . realized that he definitely was not going to let this go . . . and exhaled slowly. The action relaxed her stance slightly. Then she tried to quietly explain the fiasco that he'd just walked into.

"Gideon thought that I was criticizing his handling of the situation with Jane," she explained softly, "that somehow I was saying that her being taken was his fault."

She paused, and when she came back her tone had changed to one of indignation.

Because seriously, she was pretty pissed!

"But Hotch, I was NOT doing that! I was having a quiet, _private_, conversation with Morgan about the events of the past few days and wondering if there was anything that WE the team could have done differently." She shook her head, "Gideon walked up, misinterpreted what was going on and he got . . ."

Her jaw fell open for a moment before she settled on a diplomatic term.

"'_Upset_.'"

Hotch, having just seen the parting shot Jason threw, knew that 'upset' was clearly an understatement. But good for her, trying to be polite about it.

Most people who had been publicly berated wouldn't make the effort.

Emily rubbed her hand on her neck, trying to loosen the muscles.

"He asked Morgan to step away for a moment," she rolled her eyes, "not that it mattered given the volume of Gideon's voice."

God she was too tired for this garbage, and too damn old for it too. Her jaw twitched faintly . . . maybe she should just tell Hotch what was on her mind.

It sure as hell couldn't make things any worse.

"May I speak frankly sir?" She whispered as she took a step closer.

Hotch's brow wrinkled slightly as he crossed his arms at his chest.

"Of course. Always."

Emily narrowed her gaze.

"I didn't deserve that," she whispered, "what he said to me, I absolutely did _not_ deserve it. I wasn't criticizing anybody, and I wasn't being disrespectful in any way."

When she paused momentarily, Hotch flashed on the last time that she'd said words to that effect, and he felt a small twinge of guilt for this happening to her again. But he tried to shake that off as she continued with her point.

He couldn't change the past.

"I didn't deserve that," she continued softly, "but I can take it. But . . ." then her voice dropped even lower though the others were giving them a wide berth, "I know that I'm not the only one that he's spoken to that way when he gets stressed out. And it's beyond just simply snapping at someone impersonally. He, like the rest of us, knows what buttons to push. And he can be . . . cruel." She gave Hotch an impassioned look. "I like Jason, I really do. I know that he's a good man, he's not mean spirited generally, and I understand that this was a particularly bad case. But it was hard for me too sir, I liked Jane," she bit her lip, "I liked her quite a bit."

Hotch closed his eyes for a second.

For a moment he had forgotten just how disturbed Prentiss had been when she'd arrived in the desert to hear that Jane had been taken and they had no tracks to follow. She had taken that loss personally.

He rubbed his hand across his mouth . . . yeah, she really didn't deserve Gideon's crap today.

Emily sighed.

"This is obviously a hard job Hotch." Her features softened as she thought back on the events in Boston, "and I do understand that Gideon has suffered personally because of that fact more than most of us, hopefully, ever will. But all that said . . ."

And she stopped. And as Hotch looked her square in the eyes, he knew that she wouldn't finish that sentence.

He held her gaze for a moment before nodding. "I understand what you're saying Prentiss. I'll take care of it," he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "I'll take care of it now."

"Thank you sir," Emily gave him a tense smile as she leaned down to up her bag. And then he watched as she went over to sit on one of the benches to wait for that conversation to be done.

Hotch stared at her for a moment . . . noticing that nobody on the team made any move to go sit with her . . . and then he shook his head and turned to go find Jason.

/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch caught up with Gideon out in the corner of the parking lot. He was throwing his duffel into the back of one of the SUVs.

"So what was that with Prentiss?" Hotch called out as he approached. And he could see the face that Jason made as he slammed the hatch shut.

"She was out of line."

At the clear dismissal in his tone, Hotch's gaze narrowed dangerously.

"Was she?"

His words were hard and clipped. And Gideon's head snapped back, ready to start in on her again.

But then he caught the anger on the other man's face, and he realized what he was doing. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head.

"We shouldn't have let her go," he replied softly, "we should have found another way."

Feeling his own anger begin to drain, Hotch shook his head wearily.

"Possibly, but we didn't have time for another way, Jason. That was the best decision that we could make at that time, given the facts as we knew them."

Hotch stopped for a second, trying to think of a way to make his point in a way that would really get through to Gideon. Sometimes he was so pigheaded.

"That said, you _know_ how important it is to review these types of situations when they're over, to see if there was another way. So that next time," God help them if there was a next time, "we can maybe find a _different_ way."

Jason looked up at him in confusion.

"Of course I know that Hotch."

"Then WHY," Hotch continued slowly, "did you just RIP Prentiss' head off?"

Something shifted then in Gideon's eyes.

"Because she was standing there."

Hotch closed his eyes, "Jason . . ."

But Gideon cut him off, "I know Hotch. I'll fix it." Hotch opened his eyes again and shot him a hard look, "and Jason you can't . . ."

This time Gideon raised his hand. "I KNOW!" He yelled back. And then he sighed as he lowered his voice, "I know. I think I'll take a few days and go up to the cabin."

At that, the lines around Hotch's brow finally softened.

"I think that's a very good idea."

It was either that, or Hotch had him sent out on involuntary leave. And that wasn't going to work to anyone's advantage. But either way, he needed to get him away from the rest of the team. He wasn't going to have Jason use them as recuperative punching bags any longer.

That was stopping today.

The two men exchanged a look before Gideon turned and headed to the driver's side door. Hotch went the other way, crossing to the SUV parked directly opposite the one they'd talking in front of.

He tossed his bag into the rear before he went around front.

/*/*/*/*/*

Morgan had been watching out the lodge window to see when it looked like Hotch and Gideon were done talking. And as the senior members of the team split up, he made a gesture to the group. Then he pushed his bag back on his shoulder and walked over to push the door open.

The junior members of the team stepped outside. And then by unspoken agreement, they split into two factions, JJ and Emily opting to go with Hotch, and Morgan and Reid traveling with Gideon.

Hotch was the lead car, and while JJ settled into the back with her headphones and her laptop . . . she was adding her notes to the after action report . . . Emily slumped quietly in the front passenger seat.

She wasn't even pretending to try and keep busy.

She knew that Hotch had spoken to Gideon on her behalf, so she was trying to let that incident go. She'd said her peace, he had listened to her, and he had done something about it.

It was done.

But what wasn't done . . . what she absolutely could NOT get past . . . was the damn rib bone that she'd been holding!

Jane's "whistle."

A freaking HUMAN rib bone, ripped out of a murder victim who was possibly still alive at the time, and she had touched it with her bare hands! It had given her nightmares last night, and she shuddered again just thinking back on it now.

And apparently (unfortunately) it wasn't just a metaphorical shudder, because Hotch glanced over and gave her a funny look. But She didn't want him to know how much the rib thing was bothering her . . . she was still too new to be showing any weaknesses like that . . . so she rubbed her hands together and told him that she was just a little cold.

He nodded and cranked the heat up a notch.

So she smiled and thanked him, and then felt a shot of guilt when he gave her a faint smile in return before turning his attention back to the road.

God . . . she bit her lip . . . she's lying to him and he's being NICE to her! Why God? Why me? Why do you hate me so?

Emily rolled her eyes as she flopped back against the seat.

_Airport . . . jet . . . home. Airport . . . jet . . . home. Airport . . . jet . . . home._

She was hoping maybe that if she kept saying it, those three things would magically come faster.

But no, it still took an hour and a half to get out of the middle of nowhere.

The whole ride sucked.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As they started walking across the tarmac, Hotch could see that Prentiss was angling to get on the plane first.

Obviously she wanted to have some control over her seating arrangements on the jet.

So he made a point of letting her step in front of him, and then he caught Reid's sleeve so that she could get in front of him as well. Hotch figured that it was the least he could do for her after the run-in with Jason. This way she could grab one of the single seats and sit by herself.

Then she wouldn't have to deal with anyone.

Emily jogged up the stair car, bounded through the door and headed straight down to a single seat in the corner of the plane.

She was hoping to read her new book . . . in peace . . . while she put these crap couple of days out of her head.

But then thirty seconds later she had to put a pin in that plan. Gideon was walking up.

He was looking very apologetic.

And though she tried to ignore him . . . she didn't feel like getting into any of that again now . . . then he leaned down to tape his fingers lightly on the back of her seat.

"Prentiss," he cleared his throat, "I was wondering if you'd like to, uh, play chess?"

Emily froze for a moment. She may have been trying to let it go . . . but she was still pissed, and she SO badly wanted to tell him to go screw. He deserved it. That and more.

But she knew that wouldn't accomplish anything.

They still had to work together.

Pausing for a moment as he was about to store his ready bag, Hotch watched the exchange between Prentiss and Gideon from the other end of the aisle. He could see Prentiss' jaw twitch, and he knew in his bones that she wanted nothing more than to say, "go to hell . . . sir."

And Hotch would have let her do it too, and without so much as a token look of reproach.

She'd earned that much.

But she didn't say that. Instead, she looked hard at Gideon, who bowed his head slightly in a show of remorse. It seemed to be enough for her. Because then she took a deep breath and seemed to come to her decision.

She nodded and closed her book.

"Thank you sir," she responded politely, "a game of chess sounds nice."

A shadow of a smile passed over Hotch's lips . . . good for her. And with that, he turned to click the overhead cabinet shut.

Time to find his own seat for the long flight home.

* * *

_A/N 2: All of the H/P growing pains had been addressed as of the last episode, so starting here I felt like I had free reign to start doing whatever I wanted to with them off-screen to build up trust and 'general affection' by the time we get to the season finale, which is covered in this story on chapter 20. Basically I have ten chapters for Emily to become attached enough to Hotch that she quits her job, and for Hotch to become attached enough to Emily to go drag her back. _

_FYI: I'm far enough ahead that I can post an extra chapter this weekend, so three instead of just two. As always you know the drill, they go up daily regardless but EXTRA chapters go up faster when people review. That way I know at least somebody has read them before the next one goes up :)_

_Next: __**"The Wife Meets the New Girl"**_


	11. The Wife Meets the New Girl

**Author's Note**: This is the Super Bowl ep that opens with them all in the bar. If you have the opportunity to watch those 5 minutes before you read this, it might be more fun. I did internal thoughts for the whole scene with Hotch, Em and Haley, making an effort to match their physical movements with the internal dialogue.

Plus I did bookend missing scenes because I realized that Haley & Em had to have just met before she went to get the drinks, they were still on prelim conversation when she returned. So this dials that scene back 5 minutes and then again forward 5 minutes.

* * *

_Episode – __The Big Game_

**The Wife Meets the New Girl**

"Haley, I'd like to introduce Emily Prentiss, the BAU's newest addition. Prentiss," Hotch gestured, "my wife Haley."

With a look back over her shoulder, Haley rolled her eyes at her husband.

"She has a _first_ name Aaron," she responded smartly as she turned back to Emily with a smile and a handshake.

"It's very nice to meet you, _Emily_!"

Having only arrived for the BAU Super Bowl gathering a few minutes before Hotch and his wife, Emily's eyes twinkled at the look of exasperation on Hotch's face. So funny to see somebody actually busting his balls.

Ha!

"It's very nice to meet you too Haley, and uh," Emily's lip quirked up, "it's really okay. I don't call him by his first name either." She flicked her gaze back to Hotch, "isn't that right, _sir_."

Seeing his wife's mouth twitch at Prentiss' remark, Hotch narrowed his eyes as he looked from one woman to the other . . . great, they were bonding.

This was probably not good for him.

"So," he rubbed his temple, "who needs a beer?"

Emily and Haley exchanged grins before Emily hopped off the stool.

"I'll get it. What would you like Haley?"

"Cranberry juice and vodka," Haley smiled, "thanks."

"'Kay," Emily turned with an eyebrow raised, "and Hotch?"

"Guinness, please," Hotch started digging into his wallet, "hold on." Then he yanked out a twenty.

"Here."

But Emily tried to wave off the bill he was holding up.

"No, no I got it."

Hotch's expression softened as one of his dimples slid out.

"Prentiss, really," he pushed the money into her hand, "my treat."

It was the _least_ that he owed her given the hits that she'd taken on arrival.

"Thanks Hotch," Emily said with a smile as she accepted the cash. Then she gave a little wave as she headed for the bar.

"Back in a flash guys!" She called over her shoulder.

Haley watched Emily walk away . . . and then noticed her husband was doing the same thing. She leaned forward on her elbows, then rubbed her hands together.

Hmph.

"She's very pretty." She stated conversationally.

Hotch's eyes snapped back over to his wife.

"Who?" He bit his lip, "Prentiss?"

Shit. She'd just caught him looking. But he wasn't LOOKING, looking, he was just . . . looking.

There was a difference.

Haley smirked.

"No, the other hot brunette who just left the table. Yes," she made exaggerated air quotes, "'_Prentiss'._"

"Huh," Hotch drummed his fingers on the table as his gaze shifted casually around the bar, "I hadn't noticed."

He _had_ noticed . . . eleven years ago, and then again, three months ago. But he had also been married for almost two decades. And the first thing that he had learned after putting the seat down, was to NEVER agree with his wife when she commented on the relative attractiveness of another woman.

It was a bad road.

Haley, being hip to Aaron's little diversionary tactic, was having none of it. He might have been a bit emotionally repressed, aka, not a '_sharer,_' but he was still a heterosexual male, and there was no WAY that her husband was going to sit there and tell her that he hadn't even "noticed" THAT woman, was attractive!

That was just a bold face lie.

And though Haley also thought that Agent Jareau was quite pretty, there was a difference . . . she was half Aaron's age. So therefore wouldn't have even caught her husband's eye.

But Emily Prentiss on the other hand . . . she was a different story.

For one thing, she was only slightly younger than Haley herself. Not to mention the fact that Aaron always referred to Agent Jareau as "JJ" and Agent Prentiss . . . since he'd first mentioned her arrival a few months ago . . . was just "Prentiss." Yes, Haley had noticed this, even if Aaron himself hadn't. And though it hadn't actually caused her any 'concern' . . . her husband was nothing if not faithful . . . she had found that factoid to be quite interesting.

Interesting enough to make him squirm a little.

"_Really?_" Haley furrowed her eyebrows as she tipped her head over to give him a look. "You hadn't _noticed_ she was pretty?" She asked sarcastically, "her?"

Hotch swallowed.

Uh oh . . . and people were afraid of his eyebrows. Haley's were much more frightening. And apparently this avoidance tactic was not going to work tonight.

He regrouped.

"Now that you mention it," he craned his neck to see Prentiss better from where she was standing over by the bar, "I suppose Prentiss is not, _unattractive_."

She was actually INCREDIBLY attractive, but again, he wasn't sharing that opinion with his wife.

Not if he hoped to have sex again that month.

Haley snorted . . . who did he think he was talking to?

"Not unattractive? Really Aaron, did you see that ass? And that skin?"

Hotch began praying for God to strike him down dead. And if it didn't happen in the next thirty seconds, he was not above banging his head repeatedly on the table to help the process along.

And then his wife continued along with her torture.

"And how about those _boobs_?"

Okay, and THERE we go . . . Hotch anxiously scrubbed his hand over his mouth, if he didn't put a stop to this now he would DEFINITELY burst a vessel!

"FINE," he burst out, "yes Haley, I ADMIT it! Emily Prentiss is a VERY attractive woman! Are you _happy_ now!?"

Realizing that he'd said that MUCH too loud, Hotch quickly looked around to make certain that his team were all well out of hearing distance.

Okay . . . yes. Phew.

Garcia was the closest . . . and looking fairly depressed on her way back from the dance floor . . . but fortunately she was still too far away to have heard anything that he'd just said.

"Yes," Haley smirked again as she leaned over to kiss Aaron's cheek, "I am happy now. And in the future sweetie, if you'd just admit these things up front, then it wouldn't be necessary for me to torment you this way."

Really, it was his own fault. If not for the bold face LYING(!), she might have gone a little easier on him.

Hopefully he'd remember that for next time.

Hotch's jaw twitched as he glared down at the table for a moment. A moment Garcia sat back down, but she ignored them in favor of staring mournfully at Morgan, so . . . Hotch rolled his eyes slightly . . . no help there.

And after shooting another nasty look at his wife . . . that little scene was just NOT necesary . . . his gaze snapped back to the bar again.

He was looking for something . . . anything . . . else to use as a distraction.

Oh . . . and here comes Prentiss with the drinks. Good, now Hotch just prayed that Haley was done having her fun for the evening.

Hotch's eyebrow twitched slightly as he noticed that Prentiss was also making a face . . . though hers was directed at Morgan's antics.

Derek was certainly providing ample distraction for the women tonight.

And not wanting to let Prentiss catch on to his faint annoyance with his wife, Hotch slapped on something approximating a smile as she passed out their beverages.

And then they toasted. But unfortunately, (for Hotch), Haley decided to continue making chit chat.

"So how are they treating you at the BAU Emily?"

Hotch . . . flashing on Prentiss' rocky first days . . . raised his eyebrows as he gave his newest agent a look.

"She means am I being nice to you."

Emily saw Haley point at her husband and nod, that 'yes, that's exactly what she meant,' and so she looked back over at her boss. And noting the second appearance of his dimples . . . a record for the time that she'd known him . . . she knew that he was was thinking about their big blow up her first month. So she smiled sweetly back at him.

That incident was in the past. They'd made amends and moved on.

Certainly no need to bring it up now.

"Actually," she answered Haley, "everyone's been incredibly nice."

Hotch hid a smile as he put down his beer.

Nice save Prentiss.

Fortunately he was spared any additional inquiries by his lovely wife, when they were interrupted by Garcia's heartsick musings on Morgan and his posse of barely legal dance partners. Hotch really hoped that this crush Penelope had on him was just transitory, because he didn't have ANYTHING in the manual to cover what to do if something happened between the two of them and it ended badly.

Which it most likely would, given that Derek clearly was nowhere _near_ done sowing his wild oats.

Hotch then saw Haley whisper something in Prentiss' ear, which resulted in Prentiss comparing Morgan to a _dog_, and Hotch actually had to put his head down to hide his grin. And two seconds later the two of them were likening him to an alley cat!

God, Prentiss and Haley together were a frightening combination.

He needed to put a stop to it. If they got any chummier Haley might share with Prentiss what exactly she'd been saying while the other woman was off getting drinks. She'd think it was funny.

Hotch would rank it as grounds for divorce.

So he quickly grabbed his wife's hand.

"Come on Haley," he said as he squeezed her fingers, "let's go show them how it's done."

Dancing should suffice as a distraction to break off their little bond.

Emily ducked as Hotch took Haley's hand and tugged her out to the dance floor.

A soft smile touched her lips as she looked after them.

"Oh, that is so sweet."

But Garcia didn't respond, she just sulkily excused herself to go to the bathroom. So Emily turned back to watch Hotch with his wife.

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

She wanted that. Well . . . she tipped her head . . . not THAT specifically. _That_ was taken and _that_ was her boss, but she wanted somebody to look at her like that. She'd broken up with her last boyfriend a month before she'd left Chicago. John Sullivan, "Sully," he was a DEA agent out of the Chicago field office. He was a nice guy, and they'd gone out semi-seriously for almost a year, but she hadn't been in love with him. Nor he her.

They were just having fun.

They both had higher aspirations for their careers, so they'd decided to amicably break it off while Emily was going through the application process for the BAU. She knew that if there was really any spark between them that the career thing wouldn't have been quite the obstacle that they'd pretended it was.

If they'd had a future together he could have transferred to DC or Baltimore.

But he wasn't ready to settle down, and wasn't ready to settle period. She didn't want to just "a nice guy." She wanted nice and sweet and funny and smart and kind. She wanted the whole enchilada, and was willing to wait until it came along. And even though she was still relatively young, she was still getting too old to screw around anymore. If she didn't think the relationship was going to go anywhere, then she saw no point in investing the energy in it.

Life was too short.

Suddenly catching site of Hotch heading off the dance floor, Emily squinted.

Okay, why was he coming over here with that face on? Although . . . her gaze shifted a few inches . . . his face was nothing compared to the one Haley was making.

She stood as they walked back up to the table.

"What happened?" She asked worriedly.

Nothing good if she went by the look on his face.

Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Case," he muttered in exasperation, "we have to go, right now. JJ's rounding everybody else up," then his brow wrinkled slightly as he gestured to Haley, "we only have the one car, so can I get a ride with you?"

Emily reached over to pick up her bag as she nodded.

"Of course, and we're all paid up so I'm ready."

A glance down to the table made Emily realize how fortunate it was that they'd only had time for one sip from their beers.

Drunken profiling was probably frowned upon.

Hotch tipped his head, "good," and then he put his arm out to start guiding Haley and Emily towards the door.

Catching sight of Morgan and Reid standing with JJ, he yelled over to them.

"Prentiss and I will meet you at the office!"

The others nodded, and Morgan raised his hand up, so Hotch continued out the door with the women.

So much for off duty time.

/*/*/*/*/*

It turned out that Hotch and Emily had actually parked on opposite sides of the lot, so the two of them walked Haley to her car first. And then as Hotch said good bye to his wife, Emily held back at what she hoped was a chaste distance.

It was a little awkward.

"I'm really sorry about this Haley," Hotch said as he handed her the car keys, "I'll call you when I can."

Though she was trying to cover, Hotch knew that she was somewhat annoyed at the turn the evening had taken. Of course he was also annoyed . . . and a bit exasperated that they couldn't have one normal night off . . . but this was a world that he had chosen.

She had not.

Haley pursed her lips together.

"It's okay," she slowly exhaled, "I understand." Then she leaned up to give him a quick peck on the lips, "I love you. Be careful."

Then she turned to Emily standing back down by the trunk . . . she was staring hard at her boots while obviously trying to not listen to their conversation.

"You be careful too Emily," she called down, "it was nice meeting you. Hopefully we can do it again sometime."

"Yeah," Emily looked up with a smile, "that would be nice."

Haley then turned and got into the car.

After she'd backed out, she honked once as her husband and his new agent waved goodbye to her. Then when she stopped at the exit to the lot, she watched in the rear view mirror as the other two turned to go to Emily's car.

Her brow wrinkled slightly as she Emily trip over something and Aaron put out his hand to steady her.

Then he quickly pulled it back.

Haley stared for a moment before she shook her head to shake the thoughts that she was having out of her head.

Again, her husband was faithful. He would never even look at another woman. Well, all right . . . she flashed back on earlier in the nigth . . . he might _look,_ but he'd certainly never touch. And Haley was now berating herself for even allowing the idea to seep into her head. She was just a little cranky about the evening ending abruptly, that's all. They hardly ever got a babysitter and went out by themselves . . . Aaron was hardly ever home early enough for that to even be a possibility.

And as much as she loved Jack, she'd been looking forward to a few hours time with her husband sans baby. And that . . . combined with Aaron's _obvious_ efforts to keep Emily Prentiss at a clear arm's length . . . had swirled into some very uncharitable thoughts.

God, as she thought about it now, Haley really couldn't think of anything more ridiculous than her husband having an affair with Emily Prentiss. So then huffing at herself at her own stupidity, Haley rolled her eyes and pulled into traffic.

*/*/*/*/*/

As she slid the key into the ignition, Emily stated conversationally.

"Haley's nice."

Hotch's expression softened as he clicked his seatbelt, "yeah, Haley is nice." Then he turned slightly to give Prentiss a look.

Knowing instinctively what the look meant, Emily smirked as she put her hand on the seat and looked over her shoulder.

"She and I are never going to be allowed to see each other again, are we?" She asked as she began to back up.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he settled into the seat.

"No," he chuckled slightly, "no you are not."

That would be a nightmare for him.

Emily bit her lip as she began to drive out of the parking lot.

"I didn't think so."

* * *

_A/N 2: I think Hotch catching the ride with Em was actually quite plausible. They were hanging out together and clearly Haley would have needed the car to get home. I also think it was plausible that Hotch was freaking out about them being so chummy. Nobody wants their spouse buddying up to their staff. Nothing good's coming from that for him._

_To be clear, I'm not making Emily in any way an issue in their marriage. But looking at this situation from Haley's point of view, you and your husband are having some 'issues' and you show up at a bar, meet a hot chick dressed in tight jeans and a tank top, that your husband refuses to call by her first name, (even though he calls other female agents by their given names), well, a thought might flutter through your head. But that's all it is, Hotch isn't crushing on Em, and Em is not pining for Hotch. For the foreseeable future they just "like" each other. They're not even "in like," let alone "like, like" :)_

_I'll try and put up another one tonight. You know how to make it go up faster :) And thanks for all the reviews on the last one guys! It was very nice to wake up to this morning! _

_Next: __**"Little Boxes & Big Bullies"**_


	12. Little Boxes & Big Bullies

**Author's Note:** The first segment is an internal rumination from Emily post her conversation with Hotch & JJ in the house. The infamous "compartmentalize" remark. I didn't really place her in any particular situation because then I would have had to include external actions as well :) So let's just say that this is probably the kind of thing that would have run through her head while they were driving.

The second segment is a post ep after they get Reid back.

* * *

_Episode – __Revelations_

**Little Boxes & Big Bullies**

Little tiny boxes.

That's how Emily functioned. She shoved her emotions separately into little tiny boxes that were then neatly labeled before she stored them away. But how could JJ or Hotch really think that meant that she didn't _care_ about these terrible things that they saw? That had really bothered her.

And yet she hadn't known what to say to them.

Because shoving her emotions aside was the only way that she _could_ care. This job could be overwhelming . . . hell LIFE could be overwhelming . . . and you couldn't take either one in a big chunk. You had to break it down into manageable parts and deal with what could be dealt with . . . and then you push the rest aside.

The things you couldn't fix. The things that it wasn't your place to fix.

The things that you simply had to walk away from.

It didn't mean that she didn't want Reid back as badly as they did. He was theirs. Their responsibility, theirs to reclaim.

And she would do whatever she had to in order to bring him home.

Besides that though . . . he was a sweet kid and she liked him.

And for the first time since she'd arrived at the Unit, Emily was actually grateful that that she was the new girl. That she hadn't known Red as long as the others had. It was hard enough for her to deal with this, but she knew that it was still easier for her to process what was happening, than it was for the rest of them.

Even with Hotch, she could see the . . . what had Garcia called them on her first day, "chinks in his unchinkable armor." Well, he definitely had plenty of dents right now, and if his were actually visible, she couldn't even imagine what the rest of them were going through.

He had said that she had come into this job and hadn't even blinked. Well, how could she? He didn't. That was why she was trying so hard to remain stoic, above the fray, that was the example that he set. Completely rational, completely logical . . . no matter the intensity of the situation.

That was usually her chief.

And she was just trying to follow his lead.

Unfortunately it appeared that she might have overcompensated just a little bit. Because she didn't want it to appear to them that she'd lost a connection to her humanity. So when this was all over, and they had Reid back safe and sound, she'd figure out what she could do to address that perception.

But for now . . . she took a breath . . . she had work to do.

/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch stood in front of the hospital vending machine feeding in quarters.

It was two am and he was trying to get a lousy cup of lousy coffee. Reid was down the hall sleeping somewhat fitfully . . . but understandably . . . he hadn't wanted to be sedated. And a few hours ago Hotch had sent the rest of the team back to the motel . . . God knows that they needed the sleep . . . but he didn't want to leave Spencer all alone at the hospital.

Gideon had tried to argue that he would stay with him, but Hotch had insisted that he be the one. And Jason had finally acquiesced with his usual little smile and a pat on the back. He seemed to understand that Hotch needed to do this. It was his responsibility.

_Reid_, was his responsibility.

And the doctors said that they were keeping his agent overnight at least. Perhaps longer.

_Officially_, he was suffering from dehydration, bruised ribs and some minor internal injuries which . . . fortunately . . . were healing on their own.

Again, those were his 'official' injuries.

But_ unofficially_ Hotch was more worried about his mental state . . . how much damage had been done there . . . but there was no magic pill they could give him for that. Only time would tell there. But if his electrolytes stabilized, the doctors said that he could go home in a day or so. Either way, the whole team was staying until he was released.

They'd arrived together, and they went home together.

That was the rule.

And with all of these other things with Reid going on, Hotch knew that it was stupid, but one thing that his mind kept returning to were the faults that the team had listed for him. They'd really been bothering him. He could accept the drill sergeant, but did they actually think that he was a bully? That he didn't value the opinions of his female agents, as much as he did his male ones? He wasn't that guy.

_Was he?_

He looked down at the machine's dispenser.

Okay, why is there still no coffee? He hit the buttons again. Still nothing. Jiggle the change release? Nope, the money had officially been accepted. So what was the deal here?

Well . . . his arm came up . . . when it doubt, hit the side. So he hit it.

Nothing.

All right . . . his jaw started to twitch . . . now he was getting pissed off.

He glared at the square box, as though that approach worked on inanimate objects too. What the hell was WRONG with it?! Stupid, freaking machine!

Maybe if he kicked it.

God, all he wanted was a FRIGGING cup of coffee!

Okay, kicking didn't work either, and . . . OWW!

"Sir?"

Crap.

Hotch cringed before turning around.

"Prentiss," he cleared his throat," what are you doing here?"

Besides watching me make an ass out of myself.

Emily walked into the break room to see Hotch kicking a vending machine.

That was one for the books. And she was vaguely amused for a moment as she looked between Hotch's foot and the machine that he had just broken it against.

That was very UN-Hotchlike behavior.

But then she remembered why he was so stressed . . . what was bringing on the unHotchlike behavior . . . and the amusement faded. She was sober again as she looked up at him. Then she reached down into her white bag.

She pulled out a large cup with Dunkin Donuts written on the side.

"I brought you some coffee sir," she said as she walked closer and held it out. "I stopped by Reid's room and you weren't there. The nurse told me that she'd directed you down here."

Given that he was beating up the coffee machine, she was very glad that she'd thought to get him a cup when she stopped for her own.

Hotch could have kissed Prentiss as he accepted the Styrofoam cup, but for the fact that he didn't think that she . . . or Haley . . . would have appreciated the action. So he settled for a simple "thanks" as she started to reach into the bag for her own beverage.

She just tipped her head in return.

After she'd pulled out her cup, Emily pulled off the lid to help cool the hot liquid more quickly. Her announcement of coffee was about as animated as she'd ever seen Hotch get.

Wow . . . she huffed to herself . . . if she'd known that was all it would take to perk him up, feminism be damned, she would have brought him a cup months ago!

Hotch took a sip before clearing his throat.

"Seriously Prentiss," he nodded, "thanks for this, but you should be sleeping. What are you doing here?"

Emily leaned back back against the wall to take a small drink before she answered.

"I couldn't sleep," she licked her lips, "and I thought that you might be up so . . ." she shrugged, "here I am." Then her eyebrow quirked slightly.

"How's Reid?"

He hadn't looked that great when she left.

"He at least _is _sleeping," Hotch answered softly, "a few nightmares but," he half shrugged, "that's to be expected."

That and a hell of a lot more.

Seeing Prentiss nod her agreement, Hotch looked her over more closely before his brow wrinkled slightly.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" He asked curiously.

Rather than answer Hotch's question directly, Emily decided to ask one of her own.

"Sir," her eyes snapped up to his, "you don't have doubt about my mental fitness to do this job, do you?"

Hotch blinked. He was very specifically NOT expecting those words to come out of her mouth. And because of that, he hesitated for a moment before responding.

Unfortunately that moment of hesitation, Prentiss seemed to take as confirmation.

"You do have doubts?"

She looked upset.

"No Prentiss," he quickly shook his head, "I don't think that at all. I think you're doing fine. We've just been surprised that's all, at how quickly you've adapted to this work." He tipped his head, "most people have a hard time at first."

Hell, most people couldn't even walk into those glass doors, let alone keep a steady hand for the first six months.

Prentiss had been an . . . anomoly. Not that he'd made his earlier comment expecting that she'd read it as a denigration of mental faculties!

That was . . . to put it mildly . . . unexpected.

Emily looked over at Hotch in surprise.

"But I couldn't afford to have a hard time sir. I wasn't wanted here, and the circumstances of my transfer were," she made an ironic face, "_suspect_. So how could I fight to prove I belonged, only to have a public breakdown or throw up on somebody's shoes the first day I saw dismembered body out in the field."

Hotch stared back for a moment, his fingers tapping a slight rhythm on his pants legs.

Though he knew that he would have given her more leeway than that . . . he wasn't a complete schuck . . . now putting himself in her place, from her perspective, he could see how she would think that way. Really, it's not like he was 'Mr. Open Arms and Share a Lot' even after they'd worked out their 'communication' issues. So because of his behavior . . . and how the team interacted overall . . . Prentiss had figured out a way to cope with the stresses of this work quickly, before they could affect her performance on the job.

Made sense.

Though it did make him now wonder if her perception of him on _this_ issue, led back to what had been bothering him before she arrived.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Do you think I'm a bully?"

To his surprise, _she_ didn't look surprised at the question. Then her expression softened slightly as she shook her head.

"No Hotch," Emily responded quietly, "no, I don't. JJ was caught for a word quickly and I think if you asked her again, she'd say she misspoke. I think she probably meant that you can be um . . ." she bit her lip for a second, "demanding. But you're not a bully. Bullies prey on people weaker than they are." Then she shook her head vehemently.

"_You_ don't do that."

_'Gideon does that_,' she wanted to add.

But she didn't.

Hotch was relieved by Prentiss' response. Though he hadn't been able to put his finger on it, that was _exactly_ what was bothering him about that term . . . picking on people who were weaker than he was. He thought he was a better person than that, so he was glad to know that he wasn't just self deluded.

That would have been another fault to add to the list.

He took another sip of his coffee before giving Prentiss a pointed nod.

"What about you? Were you also 'caught for a word'? Or do you really believe that I value the opinions of my male agents over my female ones?"

As long as they were up, might as well air it all out now and be done with it.

Not about to get caught short, Emily's lip quirked up slightly.

"I think it comes back to being demanding sir. You sometimes will overlook people if they don't . . ."

Then she paused for a second to search for the right words, she didn't want to screw this up.

"Clearly and firmly express their opinions and stand by their conclusions." She finished. And then sighed, "and that said I'll allow that women, even in law enforcement, and I include myself here, can sometimes try too hard to be nice, and in the process maybe let themselves get overshadowed by their more assertive male co-workers. That part's especially true in law enforcement. It's a testosterone factory. And also," she added with a faint tint to her cheeks, "again, for myself, I've been trying to fit in here, to be liked. And really Hotch," she shook her head, "nobody likes a new girl that's shoving her opinions down everyone's throat. They just think she's a bitch."

She would have thought . . . at her age, and with her career . . . that she'd grown beyond needing to be liked.

Apparently not.

Hotch's brow quirked up slightly as he leaned back against the wall. He was staring intently into her eyes.

"I see," he asked softly, "so I should listen more?"

Emily nodded slowly as she held his gaze, "and I should speak up more."

They stood silently for a moment and then Hotch looked down to his shoes.

"That was a good talk Prentiss."

Emily's expression softened.

"I agree sir," she responded in the same tone.

Hotch's eyes snapped back up. Then he pushed himself off the wall and gestured for her to go first.

After they'd exited the small break area . . . and were on their way back down towards Reid's room . . . he looked down at her again.

"You think you can sleep now?" He whispered.

Emily looked up at Hotch with a small smile. They'd just arrived at Reid's door.

"I think," she tipped her head, "yes, how about you?"

A shadow of a smile crossed Hotch's lips.

"I think maybe I can too."

* * *

_A/N 2: For Emily, I thought her reasonings to both herself and Hotch about why she had been behaving that way felt true. Because she's really evolved from the earlier episodes to one of the more emotive and sensitive members of the team so I thought back then she was probably still finding her footing on how to handle everything._

_And I really had to disagree with both Emily and JJ's faults for Hotch. Canon Hotch has his issues, but he's not a chauvinistic bully. The bully part was especially ridiculous coming from JJ because she's the one person he's like never even had a cross word with onscreen. So I figured 'caught quickly for a word' would explain why they said what they said._

_The next chapter is one of my personal favorites for the season two stuff. Which is ironic because this is one of the episodes that was originally giving me hard time._

_Next: __**"Getting to Sesame Street"**_


	13. Getting to Sesame Street

**Author's Note:** This is a post ep on the way home from Connecticut. And I didn't just arbitrarily put them next to each other on the plane. Even though you don't see them sitting together in the last scene, Em's walking back to one of the two empty seats left and Hotch's briefcase really IS on the other one, yet Hotch himself is nowhere to be seen. If you read on you can find out where he was :)

* * *

_Episode – __Fear and Loathing  
_

**Getting to Sesame Street**

Hearing the cockpit door click open, Emily looked up to see Hotch coming back out to the main cabin of the plane. She gave him a little smile as he headed back to his seat next to her.

"How long until we land?"

Her voice was soft . . . the others were trying to sleep.

"Jim says about an hour and a half," Hotch responded with a quiet exhale as he moved his briefcase to the floor.

After he'd settled back into his seat, the bright coloring of Prentiss' book caught Hotch's eye. He tipped his head down to try and read the cover.

"Who is that?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, "Vonnegut?"

"Yeah," Emily handed it over to him with a smile, "do you like him too?"

She kind of hoped that Hotch was a fan too. Actually . . . she started getting a little excited . . . given that she already knew Morgan liked him, and that Reid liked Star Trek, so now she was wondering if maybe the whole BAU regularly read Vonnegut, and Douglas Adams and that they _all_ owned Star Trek DVDs! Maybe they were secretly a group of super nerds like she was!

That would be great!

Hotch looked at the cover.

"I'm not really familiar with his work," he paused for a second to flip the book over. And after reading the back jacket, he looked up.

"I read Slaughterhouse Five in high school, but that's it." Then his eyes crinkled slightly as he returned the novel, "this looks interesting though."

Emily tried to hide her disappointment at Hotch's lack of knowledge for one of her favorite authors. But it really had been too much to expect that he was into Vonnegut too.

It was hard to find super nerds in such a tightly concentrated little pack.

So she pushed that pipe dream aside to add brightly. "Slaughterhouse Five is great but, this one," she tapped the cover, "_this_ is one of my favorites. I love Kurt Vonnegut! And I just discovered the other morning that Morgan is as big a fan as I am!"

It wasn't until she flopped back with a big goofy smile on her face, that Emily realized she'd probably finished that sentence with a bit more 'zeal' than it had called for. And she watched Hotch's mouth quiver slightly as he looked away.

Great . . . she thought as he pulled out his computer . . . now he's laughing at me. He probably thinks I'm a massive loser.

Spaztastic much, Em?!

With a slight slump of her shoulders, Emily sheepishly dropped her head back to her book.

So much for making connections.

Hotch huffed slightly to himself as he turned on his laptop . . . Prentiss' enthusiasm was amusing. And he'd noticed how animated she had been talking to Derek the other morning, so this was _clearly_ the topic that had gotten her so excited. When he'd walked up to them her face had been lit up like he hadn't seen before, and for just a second . . . as he was telling them about the briefing . . . he'd considered asking her what they were discussing.

The second passed quickly though.

Because he'd realized that it was really none of his business what they were talking about. So he just told them that they had a case . . . and then walked away. But Prentiss was always so careful to present a certain image in the office . . . probably leading back to what she'd told him in the hospital that night . . . so he'd been curious about what could have elicited such a passionate response from her.

Kurt Vonnegut apparently.

Huh.

This was good though. The BAU was a close knit group, and he didn't want her to feel like an interloper. He was glad that she and Morgan had found something in common. That she was making friends. Because he knew that in terms of leading by example, Hotch himself was not going to be of any help in that area. He was not the 'touchy feely' type, nor was he the most loquacious person on the team. Personal conversation required a back and forth.

And he wasn't much for sharing.

So as a result, he tended to keep his distance from the rest of them. In the beginning he told himself that it was the best way to retain the objectivity he needed to put them in harm's way. But as time passed, he began absorbing the details of their lives almost purely through osmosis.

Morgan for instance, seeing as Prentiss had just brought him up. Hotch knew that he liked Oreo cookies . . . but only Doublestuff. And he hated raisins, and he had a terrible case of poison ivy when he was sixteen that had sent him to the hospital for three days. And he'd hated the food, so his mother smuggled him in chicken salad sandwiches.

They were his favorite.

Hotch had learned those things . . . personal things . . . and he still didn't hesitate to send Derek Morgan crashing through the front doors of crack houses.

It was easier before though, when Morgan was just "Agent Morgan," and never "Derek." Because Derek had a mother named Fran, and three sisters who loved him.

So yes, Hotch had finally accepted that he kept himself at a distance from the team, because that's simply how he preferred it. But he also knew that he had some interpersonal issues, a lot of them actually, but he didn't want his childhood traumas to result in the team feeling disjointed or disconnected from one another. So he was pleased when he saw them joking around in the bullpen, or heard that they had grabbed a beer the night before. He wanted that for them.

Even if it wasn't something that he wanted for himself.

Prentiss though . . . he flicked his eyes over to her, watching for a second as she turned a page . . . he knew that she'd felt like an outsider these past few months. And he may have chosen that role, but she hadn't. So he'd noticed how sometimes she'd put on a polite smile . . . one that didn't quite reach her eyes . . . when Garcia and Morgan laughed about something that had happened in a club that they had gone to over the weekend.

And Hotch . . . irrationally stupid though it may have been . . . wanted to pull Morgan aside and tell him to invite Prentiss to go out with them. To be nice to her.

Of course he would never do that.

For one thing, someone as proud as Emily Prentiss, would have been _mortified_ that people had been 'ordered' to spend time with her. But also, just like walking up on their private conversation the other morning, at the end of the day . . . it was none of his business.

But he'd felt badly for her nonetheless, and was pleased that she was now starting to find a place within their group, personally as well as professionally. Professionally she was doing quite well. Morgan had told him that she'd done a fine job on their interrogation of that girl Tonya. And Hotch himself had noticed how well she'd handled poor, disturbed Jane out in Nevada.

Perhaps this would be a niche for her.

Children and battered women didn't always respond well to being in a closed door conversation with a man, even if the man was Spencer . . . the least physically intimidating out of the four of them.

All of the specialized behavioral training in the world couldn't overcome basic fear.

So they really did need somebody with a softer touch to step in on those situations, with the children especially. Hotch's jaw twitched slightly as he made a mental note to watch Prentiss' interrogations in the future.

He wanted to see if she did indeed have a skill that could be cultivated.

It was then that Hotch noticed . . . out of the corner of his eye . . . that the object of his musings kept shifting in her seat. She seemed uncomfortable.

Oh . . . he winced . . . shit.

That was probably his fault. She had made that disclosure to him about one of her favorite authors, which he had just deduced was something very special to her.

It was something special that she'd chosen to share with him.

And beyond a slight tip of the head, he hadn't even acknowledged that she'd spoken aloud. Nice, Aaron. This was the other reason that he didn't try to make general chit chat with people.

He sucked at it.

And so in an attempt to make amends for inadvertently being a schmuck, Hotch cleared his throat slightly.

"Uh, Prentiss," he asked with a gentle tone, "when you're done with that book, do you think that maybe I could borrow it? I don't read much fiction, but if you and Morgan are both such big fans of his, then maybe I should see what all the fuss is about."

Emily slowly raised her head, and it warmed his heart to see the beatific grin on her face.

"Yes sir," Emily nodded enthusiastically, "of course! I'll let you know when I'm done with it."

Seeing the little smile Hotch gave her . . . along with a slight tip of his head . . . Emily dropped her eyes back down to her novel.

She was still wearing a grin.

He wanted to read her book! She knew that it was silly, but that made her feel so much better. Not that it was relevant really if Hotch thought she was 'cool' as long as he respected her work in the field, but still, she was glad that he didn't think she was completely spastic.

It was stupid how insecurities like that could follow you throughout your life. No matter how old you got, or how successful you became, there was always some small part of you that was still fifteen, and just wanted people to like you.

Hotch watched as Prentiss instantly transformed from tense and uncomfortable, to relaxed and happy, and all because he'd asked to borrow her book.

Such a small request had meant so much to her.

This was a good lesson for him. Even though he studied behavior for a living, he forgot sometimes how it was the little things that could make the biggest difference.

Which reminded him . . . his brow wrinkled slightly . . . he'd forgotten to call Haley and tell her that they were flying back. Damn. Okay, well, maybe that was for the best because he was going to stop at the office before he went home, so she would have been waiting up for him.

And if he called now she'd ask when they were landing, and that might lead to a 'discussion' about him coming right home. A discussion that he really didn't want to have. Especially on the plane with an audience around him. So maybe just a text message would be better.

He pulled out his phone, and quickly typed . . . '_Back late tonight. Kiss Jack for me. Love you.'_

Then he hit send, and slipped his phone back into his pocket. After staring out the window briefly his gaze dropped down to the darkness of the ocean below. He exhaled slowly before shaking his head and finally turning his attention to the report he needed to read.

Almost everyone else had drifted off to sleep. The only sounds Hotch could still hear in the cabin, were that of pages being turned in a book.

* * *

_A/N 2: Hotch's thoughts re Em's conversation with Derek about Vonnegut were inspired by Arcadya's request to find out what Hotch was thinking when he walked up and gave her that, to quote Arc, "piercing gaze." And it really was QUITE the piercing gaze! If you see it again, there's a lot of intensity behind the message of basically, 'uh, yeah we have a meeting.' So that's what I came up with._

_Also, as you can see I am laying the groundwork for the disintegration of Hotch's marriage. I'm not going to beat that horse. It's a subtle subplot, but unlike in canon, in this world there will at least be some indirect inferences where you can see the bolts loosening before the wheels came off that wagon._

_There you go. Again, this is one of my personal favorite chapters for season two, so please let me know what you think!_

_Next: __** "The War at Home"**_


	14. The War at Home

**Author's Note:** This is a post ep for their trip to Houston. The random stranglings. It's also the one where Reid's post abduction 'issues' start becoming apparent. I mention that because I make an allusion about it below, but it's addressed in more detail in the next chapter.

* * *

**The War at Home**

As Emily watched Hotch staring off into space, she wondered whether or not it would be appropriate to ask him if he was all right.

At the moment, she was sitting at the small table across from him on the jet. Everyone else was either sleeping or reading, mostly sleeping. When they'd boarded the plane, Hotch had pulled out his paperwork, but then she noticed that he wasn't doing anything with it. The papers were out, but is gaze was just focused on some imaginary point on the table. Emily knew that Gideon was troubled by this case, but it had clearly affected Hotch too, the two of them more so than the rest of them.

Of course she wasn't including Reid in that equation.

He was dealing with his own . . . unrelated . . . demons right now. No, Hotch had been troubled since they'd deduced that the UNSUB was a soldier. Somebody trained to protect people had been so haunted by the terrible things that he had seen and done, that years after he had completely removed himself from that world . . . he had snapped. Roy Woodbridge had gotten a flat tire. Of all the things to trigger your downfall, that was a tough one to swallow.

But that was his.

And now four innocent people were dead. Five really if you counted Woodbridge himself. A man whose only truly _deliberate_ action that had eventually led to those deaths, was to once sign his name to a form and hand it to an Army recruiter.

And so it began.

Choices, they were funny things. Sometimes they seem so right. And then fifteen, twenty years later they come around and bite you on the ass. And though Emily didn't know Hotch that well personally . . . he kept himself very closed off . . . he clearly took his work very seriously, considering it more a duty than simply a job.

Just like a soldier.

Just like Roy Woodbridge.

Emily was still new enough to still consider this a job, but maybe someday it would become a calling for her too. But as it was right now, she knew that she could still walk away. And she could walk away knowing that there wouldn't be any lasting damage to her psyche. But through the veil of her lashes, looking over at Hotch, who appeared so lost and alone, Emily wondered if he could say the same thing.

/*/*/*/*

Hotch bit down on his lip. He was counting in his head the number of people that he had killed, or had seen killed, right in front of him.

Too many.

And he was only forty-four, the same age as Roy Woodbridge. A man who also had a wife that loved him, and friends who were loyal to him. A man who had also chosen a career that served his country by living in a world of violence. And he did that in the hope that if he did his job well, that other people would never have to see the things that he saw.

Nobody should see the things that they saw.

And for his own sanity, Woodbridge had walked away from that world fifteen years ago. But he hadn't known then that it was already too late. Fifteen years out of the filth, and now Woodbridge was dead.

A bullet shot through his chest that had a clear line of sight from Mogadishu . . . to Houston.

Hotch's father had seen a lot of things in the war, and he had come home and drank and cheated on his mother. Not right away though, it was gradual. Hotch remembered that they hadn't started fighting . . . really fighting . . . until he was at least eight or nine.

Before that they were happy.

Because . . . though the stressor that made a person snap and kill was sudden . . . the underlying deterioration that allowed it to happen, that took time. And how many years had he been doing this work?

Twelve.

With almost eight of those in the BAU. So now Hotch was starting to wonder . . . was there already one incident eating away at him, but he didn't know it yet?

That thought was absolutely horrifying, because that thought was absolutely plausible.

And even if that incident hadn't happened yet, it still could be coming for him. Somewhere down the road. The next case . . . or the next one after that.

For him, there were unlimitless horrors yet to come.

Because he knew . . . he wasn't walking away from this world anytime soon. Would he eventually turn out like his father? Or would he turn out like Roy Woodbridge?

"Hotch?"

Hotch looked up as Prentiss quietly spoke his name. His eyebrow inched up.

"Yes, Prentiss?"

Her eyes crinkled slightly.

"Penny for your thoughts, sir?"

Though she didn't ordinarily strike up random conversations with Hotch, Emily hoped that he wouldn't see the question as an intrusion. She just thought that maybe he might like to talk about whatever was bothering him.

Because it was quite clear that _something_ was bothering him.

Hotch held Emily's gaze steady, his voice soft.

"I was just thinking about my father. He was in the Marines."

Emily wasn't sure what it was she'd thought he'd say, but it hadn't been that. Still though, it wasn't terribly surprising. She nodded back.

"Yeah, my dad too. Army though. Special forces in Vietnam before he joined the Agency."

Hotch's eyes dropped from hers, snapping back down to the little table.

"Yeah," he whispered, "my dad was in Vietnam too."

If the look on Hotch's face was any indication, Emily presumed his father had come back in different state than Emily's own had. Her own father was a good humored, gregarious man always quick with a joke and a smile. Hotch didn't seem to come from a background like that.

Far from it.

As Hotch stared down at the table, he realized that they were one question away from Prentiss asking something completely bland and inoffensive about his childhood. Something that he would probably bristle at because he didn't discuss his childhood, ever, and then he'd have to apologize to the woman for the second time in as many months for doing absolutely nothing wrong. And he wasn't sure if he had it in him to deal with that again. Which meant that he _really_ needed to put a full stop to this conversation before any of that happened.

So he quickly changed the subject to one he had been meaning to bring up anyway.

He shuffled the papers in front of him.

"You did a good job on the interview with that little girl."

Emily blinked once at the abrupt change in subject, but then she gave Hotch a little smile.

"Thank you sir."

He nodded. "I think I'd like for you to start taking point on the interviews with the children. See how that goes."

Trying to hide her burst of happiness at this turn of events, Emily bit down her cheek, her eyes crinkling as she looked back over at him.

"Okay."

One of Hotch's faint shadow smiles crossed his lips when he looked at her. Though he still loved his work for the good that they did, sometimes he envied Prentiss' new girl enthusiasm.

His was long gone.

Nothing to be done about that though, so he turned back to the paperwork he had been shuffling fruitlessly. Time to let that other crap go, there was nothing that he could do about it anyway. And with that, Hotch shook his head slightly as he started to fill in the blanks on the cover sheet of his report.

Emily sat back, trying to look casual while shifting her gaze out the window.

_Wow! He thought she was doing a good job AND he was going to help her cultivate a specialty!_

Feeling the huge grin tugging on her lips, Emily bit down hard to keep from looking like a total goofball.

_'This was a big day for gifts from the Prize Patrol!'_

* * *

_A/N 2: It was clear that Hotch was pretty rattled by that case so that was my take on the why. I have to say, these earlier episodes really are even more enjoyable watching them not just for pure entertainment value but being forced to search for the 'deeper character insights' as well. It kind of adds a layer (for me) even though I do have to sometimes squint to then add in a ship slant too :) That's the third layer, the frosting going on top :) Though this really was the episode where it became obvious she started taking point on the interviews with the kids, from here going forward she's pretty much always in the room, therefore the conversation was plausible. And that's all I'm trying for folks, minimal plausibility!_

_The background on their fathers is, beyond Hotch's dad being a womanizer, all me. Though Hotch and Em are of an age that if either of them did have a father in the military they would have been in Vietnam so that's why the correlation for Hotch made sense to me.  
_

_And in case 'Prize Patrol' is just an American thing, they're this group of people in gold blazers that show up at your door with cash and prizes when you win a sweepstakes. Usually they're carrying a big picture of Ed McMahon. At least I think they do . . . . If I ever throw something out and you don't know what it means just ask :) Sometimes Arc will mention something that reminds me not all my references are universal. Like apparently, and you guys haven't seen this chapter yet, but chocolate covered pretzels are like just an American thing? Who knew! They're wonderful by the way, if you ever have the opportunity to partake, please do so._

_Reviews make me happy! Thanks!  
_

_Next: __**"Once More Unto the Breach"**_


	15. Once More Unto the Breach

**Author's Note**: This is a pre-ep for their trip to New Orleans. Given the constraints of their personal relationship to this point, it's been a challenge trying to come up with new places for them to have a private conversation. It's not like they're to the stopping by hotel rooms, or even the in-depth phone call stage yet. I imagine to date, those were just straight exchanges of information. So, looking for someplace to drop them outside of the jet or the bullpen, I came up with the parking garage! I was very proud of myself. And yes, that's a little sad, but it was a slow day so I'm okay with it.

* * *

_Episode – __Jones_

**Once More Unto the Breach**

After he'd slammed the door shut with his hip, Hotch reached up to take his travel mug down from the hood of the car.

As he glanced over the roof, he saw Prentiss at a slight distance digging into her bag. She was walking slowly through the parking garage.

Good.

Hotch had been hoping to pull her into his office before today's briefing, but down here would be even better. He really wanted to keep this conversation private, and generally the rest of the team parked on the level above them.

He threw his bag over his shoulder while calling out to her.

"Prentiss! Hold up!"

Emily turned to look behind her.

Though she knew that was Hotch's voice, for a moment she was puzzled trying to figure out where he was. And then she saw him six cars back and down on the left.

She must have driven right past him and not even noticed.

Her fingers tapped unconsciously on her bag as she waited for him to catch up. A little smile touched her lips as he approached.

"Good morning sir."

Hotch tipped his head.

"Good morning."

Emily shifted her bag and started to walk again, but Hotch put up his hand to get her attention.

"Wait Prentiss, I wanted to talk to you for a minute."

She turned back with her eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

This was weird. Hotch didn't usually stop her to walk in together, and he definitely didn't make chit chat in the parking garage on the way to the office.

He really didn't make chit chat period.

"Here," Hotch gestured as he began taking a few steps to the right, "why don't we get out of the middle of the lane first before somebody whips around the corner?"

That would be a fun way to start the day . . . as a pancake.

Emily followed her boss over to a beige corolla then watched in faint confusion as he looked around to see if they were alone.

Okay this was REALLY weird.

Figuring this was about as much privacy as they were going to get . . . though it would be great if they weren't standing in a damn ECHO chamber . . . Hotch lowered his voice.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm going to be partnering you and Reid up on the case that we'll be reviewing this morning."

Well . . . Emily's eyebrow went up . . . now at least she understood why he'd wanted to have privacy for the conversation. Reid was a sensitive topic at the moment.

A VERY sensitive topic.

Everybody was walking on eggshells around him, and Hotch had been there for at least a couple of Reid's outbursts which had been directed at her personally. Granted he hadn't seen the worst one outside the homeless shelter . . . but even still, what was he THINKING!

Emily shot a quick glance around the area before she scrunched her face up.

"Sir," she whispered back, "not to sound insubordinate, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea. Reid isn't really um," she twisted her jaw back and forth, "taking to working with me right now."

She wasn't taking it personally, but it still sucked. Before everything had happened, he'd been friendly to her.

Now she had a bulls eye on her back.

Hotch nodded as he closed his eyes for a second. "Yes, yes I've noticed. That's why I'm doing it."

Emily made a pained expression.

"Sir, have I _upset_ you in some way?"

Clearly this had to be karmic punishment of some kind!

At the look on her face, Hotch huffed.

"No Prentiss," his eyes crinkled slightly, "not at all. I promise that this is _not_ punishment." Then he sobered as he tried to explain his reasoning without actually _explaining_ his reasoning.

It wasn't easy.

"Reid is obviously going through some things since his uh," he swallowed, "abduction. And though it's clear to me that he's on edge, I have also noticed that with you, he's quite not so . . . guarded. Not like he is around the rest of us."

Still holding her gaze, Hotch gave Prentiss a pointed look. He didn't wish to elaborate further, and hoped that what he had said would be sufficient for her to understand what he was TRYING to say.

Emily stared at Hotch for a second before giving a resigned sigh. Her eyes dropped to the ground.

Okay, she got it. Reid had less of an emotional connection to her, and therefore felt more comfortable expressing his anger around her. And the reason that she wasn't taking it personally, was she knew it was just a release for whatever was eating at him.

Better small releases than one huge one.

Basically Spencer had made her designated whipping girl and Hotch wanted her to know that he'd noticed, and would like it to continue for a little while longer. And given that Hotch wasn't generally a masochistic bastard, Emily figured that he had a good reason for making this decision. She puffed out her breath. Okay, so if he wanted her to take one for the team, she'd do it without complaint.

The faster that Reid got well, the better for everyone.

Hotch Prentiss slowly exhale before biting down on her cheek. He knew then that she understood what he was saying. Still though, he gave her a moment to digest it, before he tipped his head down to catch her eyes.

"Are you okay with this?"

"Yes sir," Emily gave a firm nod as she lifted her head. "It's fine."

"Good," he exhaled, "very good. Thank you."

To that she gave him a resigned smile, and he found his expression softening in gratitude. For a moment he stared down at her, feeling like he should say something else. But then the thought . . . whatever it was going to be . . . was gone. So he tipped his head towards the elevators and they started walking.

The silence as they moved through the parking garage wasn't actually uncomfortable, but perhaps slightly strained. But of course that's because everyone _was_ under strain. The situation with Reid . . . both what had happened to him, and the lingering after effects . . . it was chafing on the team.

Like a blister that just wouldn't heal.

All Hotch was doing was trying to do was get a bandage on the situation, and he truly believed that Prentiss was his best approach here. And of course he could have partnered her up with Reid without telling her why . . . or even opted to do it if she was unhappy about his decision . . . but he would have felt like an asshole.

More so.

He didn't much care for throwing her into the lion's den. Ordinarily he didn't knowingly allow anyone on the team to be verbally abusive to one of the others. That's why he'd spoken to Gideon for her out in Nevada. Hell, that's why he'd had to apologize to her himself! But in this instance he honestly believed that forcing Reid to interact with Prentiss would help him move forward towards dealing with his issues.

The more he repressed, the longer this would all go on.

But Hotch didn't want to throw Prentiss to the wolves either. She had at least deserved a heads up that he had decided to keep them paired up for the time being.

As to the why, she could fill in the blanks all on her own.

Thinking about it, he was actually a bit relieved that it _was_ Prentiss that Reid was responding to in that manner. Not that he'd wish for her to be treated badly, but it was because she wasn't as close to Spencer personally as the others were that Hotch trusted her reaction him. That she would come to him, or maybe to Gideon, if she thought Reid was reaching the tipping point.

The others . . . well, that was the one unfortunate side effect of their familial relationship. They'd want to protect him, let him work through it on his own.

But sometimes that wasn't the best way to help.

Not that Hotch would never ask Prentiss to spy on him, it would have been a betrayal of not only their relationship, but of Hotch's relationship with both of them as well. No, he had just learned to trust over the past few months that she had good judgment. Prentiss could keep an eye on Reid and know objectively if . . . and when . . . somebody needed to intercede.

Hotch wanted this to come to a head quickly. As soon as he'd realized what was going on with Reid, he couldn't help but make an immediate comparison to what had happened in Houston.

And he didn't want Tobias Hinkle to become Spencer's Somalia.

When they reached the elevators, Hotch hit the button, blinking slightly in surprise when the doors opened immediately. As they stepped on, Hotch made a mental note to try and grab Gideon at some point too.

His gaze shifted then over to Prentiss settling into the corner of the elevator.

_'If she did decide it was time to come to one of them for help with Reid, it really wouldn't do for Jason to bite her head off again.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: And of course Hotch did not get a chance to grab Gideon, hence him speaking to her like she was a complete asshole for simply STARTING to express some slight concern for Reid's condition! A response that was pretty inexplicable given that SHE had done absolutely nothing wrong. Sorry, I got very annoyed watching the scene again. Looking back, Gideon was a really hard character to like. I suppose kudos to Patinkin for making him still a sympathetic soul even though he was clearly a real schmuck on many, many occasions. I did consider carrying the chapter to Emily's point of view after the Gideon thing but I thought this took it far enough.  
_

_Anyway, moving on, it was obvious that Reid was __particularly__ snappish with Emily, and given that Hotch had to force him to work with her in Distress, there's no way that escaped his attention. YET, he partnered them up again in Jones even though Reid was still clearly jumping down her throat. So I figured the partnering had to have been deliberate, and this seemed a plausible reason. I also prefer to think well of the Hotchman so I didn't like the idea of him subjecting her to that without a heads up that it was coming. It was just the decent thing to do. I'm also making an effort now to tie the threads of the episodes together from one chapter to the next. Because, although the stand alone format of the show necessitates that they usually move to the next week without any mention of prior happenings, this is supposed to be a 'real' fictional world. And in reality, unsettling or traumatic events don't get shaken off and forgotten quite so quickly. If only!_

_Next: __**"Litmus Test"**_


	16. Litmus Test

**Author's Note:** This is a pre-ep, some internal dialogue, missing scene and a post ep for the arsonist case out in California. So basically it's just my own version of the episode :)

This chapter leans HEAVILY on my personally established backgrounds for both Hotch and Em over in The Hours. If have read that story I'm talking about chapters 44 and 45, "The Fifth Circle" and "Skin Deep." If you haven't read it, it's enough to know that in my 'verse Hotch was abused by his stepfather and Emily was attacked and severely burned when she lived overseas. Those are obviously both very private, personal matters for them and at this point in their relationship, neither has any clue about what happened to the other.

* * *

_Episode – Ashes & Dust_

**Litmus Test**

As the team headed across the tarmac to the waiting SUVs, Hotch suddenly slowed his steps to catch Prentiss who was coming up behind him.

When she approached, he stepped in beside her.

"Prentiss," he asked softly, "have you ever been to a burn unit?"

Emily whipped her head around in alarm.

"_Excuse_ me?"

Seeing her obvious surprise at the question, Hotch's eyebrow inched up.

"A burn unit," he repeated slowly, "have you ever conducted an interview in one?"

Oh right . . . Emily relaxed slightly . . . of course, interviews. That's what he meant. For just a second she thought that somehow he knew about what happened in Saudi Arabia. But that wasn't possible. So she she shook her head.

"No sir."

Personal experiences in a burn unit didn't count against professional ones.

"Okay then," he bit his lip "I know I told you to start victimology with Reid, but I think you should come with me instead." His expression softened slightly as he continued.

"It's not pleasant but eventually everyone has to go, and you might as well get the first one out of the way now. Not that they necessarily get easier but uh . . ." something shifted in his eyes, "the first one's always the hardest."

Feeling a wave of panic wash over her, Emily dropped her gaze down to hide her absolute HORROR that she was going to have to go interview the victim. Of course she knew that if she just TOLD Hotch what had happened to her when she was a teen, that there was no way that he'd make her go. But she wasn't the kind of person who handled her problems by avoiding them.

That was the coward's way.

But either way, Emily certainly had no intention of telling her boss . . . or anyone else for that matter . . . that particular story.

Ever.

So she swallowed over the bile in her throat before giving a faint nod.

"Okay."

With that matter resolved, as they approached the SUVs Hotch called out to Reid and JJ that Prentiss was now coming with him. And then the two of them split off from the group, grabbing one of the two Suburbans that had been left waiting for the group.

Though the team had three locations to cover, given the condition of the victim, obviously it was vital that they get to the hospital immediately.

Morgan and Gideon could drop the other two off at the precinct.

And though Emily couldn't stop the nervous tap of her fingers on the ride to the hospital, she figured that Hotch would just chalk it up to normal apprehension.

By the time they walked through the automatic doors of the hospital, she'd already begun shuffling her jumbled emotions into their corresponding boxes. No time for any personal melodrama or trips down a hellish memory lane.

Agent Prentiss had work to do.

Though when they arrived upstairs, and the doctor explained the extent of poor Mrs. Cutler's injuries, the "Emily" part of her persona did pop out long enough to remind the Agent Prentiss side just how much this interview was truly going to suck. Not only would they have to see this woman's physical suffering, but now they were supposed to LIE to her too? Emily knew from her own experience in the hospital that she always expected, and appreciated, people being up front with her. She had resented it when the hospital staff . . . or her mother . . . tried to protect her from the truth of the situation.

It was _her_ life, and she should be kept fully informed on all matters pertaining to it. It was a matter of respect. A respect that she felt Mrs. Cutler was owed as well. So when the woman POINTEDLY asked about her family, Emily immediately began to answer her. And when Hotch cut her off, telling the woman that they were fine . . . telling the lie . . . she immediately shot him a look.

_They were really doing this? They were really going down this road?_

Emily knew that the woman wasn't expected to live but still, it just seemed . . . wrong. Like another violation of her trust was made even worse when she had so little time left.

But she certainly wasn't in a position to countermand Hotch's decision

Which was why she felt a wave of relief when he asked her to step out and call Morgan. Not only was she still uncomfortable on a personal level with the woman's condition, but professionally she was feeling a bit rattled as well.

She just couldn't understand how Hotch, who was so moral and upright about, well, everything, could have lied to a victim.

With a slow head shake, Emily walked down the long corridor to the waiting room.

Nothing about that interview sat right . . . nothing at all.

/*/*/*/*

Hotch came out of Mrs. Cutler's room, snapped off his latex gloves and put the protective gown into the disposal bin outside the door.

It wouldn't be needed again.

Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly . . . Christ. He stood there for a moment biting his lip, then he took a breath and went off to find Prentiss.

/*/*/*/*

As he walked into the waiting area, Hotch saw Prentiss across the room. It was clear that she hadn't seen him yet, and for just a moment . . . before she noticed him approaching . . . Hotch that thought she appeared, well, terrified. But then she looked up, muttered something into the phone and snapped it shut.

The look was gone from her face so quickly that he figured it had to have been a trick of the light.

Emily's head snapped up when she spotted Hotch walking towards her. After a quickly murmured goodbye, she ended her call with Morgan.

But she wasn't quite ready yet to deal with Hotch.

So she took a breath as she stared down at her phone for a moment longer. Then she lifted her head again to look her boss in the eye.

"Is she gone?"

Emily took in the set of Hotch's jaw as he nodded his affirmation that their only living victim had died of her injuries. She might have had a more personal connection to this situation than he did, but there was no doubt, staying there to the end, that had to have been awful for him.

"Are you okay sir?" She asked quietly.

Though he absolutely was NOT okay . . . there were few days on this job where he was ever 'okay' . . . Hotch bit the inside of his cheek. Then he slowly nodded back the lie.

"Yes."

Then his vision narrowed slightly, taking in Prentiss' waxy complexion. Though she no longer appeared frightened, as she had a moment ago, she still didn't look 'well.'

"Are _you_ okay, Prentiss?" He asked with a faint bit of concern.

Emily bit her lip.

"Burn units are, um. . ." then she shook her head and looked slightly embarrassed. "I just, uh," she swallowed, "they make me uncomfortable."

Okay, she hadn't intended to share even that much with him, but the question had caught her off guard. And given the way his eyes softened momentarily at the revelation, she figured he wouldn't hold it against her.

"That's understandable," Hotch responded softly, "everybody has their Achilles."

And he understood that Prentiss had gone out on a limb by sharing hers with him. It had been months now, but he knew that she still felt unsure of her place on the team, and to admit a weakness of any kind to him would have been hard for her. But the purpose here . . . the purpose in all relationships, personal and professional . . . was to build trust, so he thought he should return hers in kind.

He cleared his throat.

"Mine are children's homes."

At Prentiss's slightly puzzled expression he explained further.

"You know, group homes run by Family Services? I hate them. They're horrible, depressing places."

Emily gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, they are pretty terrible. Institutional settings that they fill with the most vulnerable members of society. The ones who usually have been abused and battered by the people that should have protected them."

At Prentiss' unexpected response, Hotch turned his full laser sharp intensity on her.

Okay, that was unsettling. There was no way she could have known about his background, but she'd hit that one dead on.

That's _exactly_ why he hated them.

He looked hard at her for a moment longer . . . she'd been here long enough, and she'd proved herself. So he really should start trying to show the same level of trust with her personally, that he did with the others.

This bit of distance between them served no purpose.

Emily stared up at Hotch. Though she wasn't sure what had just happened, given the intensity of his gaze, she realized it was something important. As his gaze narrowed, it appeared to her that he had come to some decision.

A supposition which was confirmed when he opened his mouth.

"I want you to know that I am not a proponent of misrepresentation when dealing with the families or the victims. I expect all of us to hold ourselves to a standard that reflects well not only on the Bureau, but on us as individuals. That said," he took a breath, "this was a special circumstance. Prentiss, I could see that it bothered you that I handled that situation as I did, but Mrs. Cutler did _not_ need to know that her family was gone. She was minutes from death, and if the morphine could spare her the physical agony of that reality, then my prevarication could spare her the emotional agony of knowing that her child was dead. Their gazes locked. "I'm a parent, and as much as I value honesty in all of my dealings with people, I can tell you without question, that in her situation, I would not have wanted to know that I had outlived my boy." Hotch's expression softened.

"Are we clear now?"

Emily's eyes were burning as she looked up at Hotch. Finally she nodded her new understanding of a type of hell that she realized she had no concept of before.

"Yes sir, we're clear," she swallowed, "thank you for explaining that to me."

Hotch nodded as they turned to head out to the elevators.

"And next time Prentiss, you can feel free to ask." He glanced down at her.

"You've earned it."

/*/*/*/*

Hotch ended up staying partnered with Prentiss for the remainder of the case. He definitely felt like with their conversation at the hospital, that they might have turned a corner in their relationship.

They caught each other's eyes more than once as different issues came to light, and they hadn't done that much in the past. Generally Hotch looked to Gideon for confirmation on his conclusions. But Prentiss had some good insights, and he'd found that she was easy to bounce ideas off of when they were staking out Abby's home. Though generally he paired her with Morgan, Hotch was thinking that maybe he should begin rotating her more regularly with him now as well.

Working with somebody that had a new, unique, perspective, would help to expand his own view of the cases.

Though admittedly it was a little awkward having her in the car when Haley decided to pick a fight about him traveling so much. Yeah, like that was really the best time to have _that_ discussion . . . when he was three thousand miles away! As if he didn't already know that he was missing out on things.

That he was screwing up.

They'd put off having a family for so long because of the demands of his career, but once he'd made chief Haley had thought it was time to start trying. She had assumed . . . and it was admittedly his fault for not correcting her . . . that somehow management meant that he would be home more.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

Now granted, in many units the chiefs did delegate the nitty gritty of the case investigations, but the BAU was not the type of unit that could function in that capacity. If the team was going on the road, he was going with them. And that wasn't a _choice_ that he'd made when he became chief, it was simply the way the unit worked.

It always had been.

But as Jack got older, it was definitely becoming a more frequent source of friction with his wife. He'd just expected that Haley would adjust to this situation as she had when he'd first left the USAO to join the FBI. But it had been a _very_ bumpy ride as of late, and he felt like crap about the whole thing. He didn't want to be a bad father . . . no man WANTS to be a bad father . . . he just needed to try harder or something. That's why he had related so much to Evan Abby.

The poor bastard.

Hotch bit back a sigh.

This had been the second case in a month where he personally identified with one of the main suspects. Granted at least this one was innocent, but still, he either needed to take a really hard look at his life, or take a very long vacation.

His gaze shifted out the window as the plane touched down on the runway.

Back to California less than a week after he'd left.

Again, of course, Haley hadn't been happy about him leaving town. But this trip . . . Hotch looked down at the envelope in his pocket . . . this trip wasn't up for debate. At least he could do something for this man's son.

Now he just had to figure out what to do for his own.

* * *

_A/N 2: I do think this was a turning point episode for them, it was the first time I could recall them being partnered exclusively without a 'chaperone.' I also thought it was necessary that he have that discussion with her about why he lied because she was obviously thrown by that, and really, on its face lying to a victim is very uncharacteristic for Hotch. Though I believe the reasoning I gave him is fairly sound. Arc and I had a little discussion about the morality of that situation. We concurred that both Hotch and Emily were correct. Generally we would be resentful if information was kept from us, HOWEVER, if we were in Mrs. Cutler's situation LIE AWAY! Hell, tell me they went to Disneyland! That's fine. It also took something for Hotch to actually TELL the lie. It's one thing to just evade the question, but another thing entirely to tell a complete momentous falsity to a dying woman. My objection to that was noted by Emily, it seems on some level a final violation of trust. Though I'd like to believe I could put aside my own discomfort and do what was best for the other person. And here's to hoping it never comes up._

_Also for the post ep, given the season is winding down it seemed a good point to find out how Hotch feels his marriage is going right now. And if you're familiar with my other story, you know I don't vilify Haley for the divorce. I just try and see their life through her eyes. Besides, when couples separate due to 'irreconcilable differences' alone, it's generally more than just one person's actions that led them to the courthouse. Therefore I'm letting Hotch own his portion of their troubles as well. Though, as you can note from his sarcasm about Haley's timing, he's still my #1 guy!_

_Lastly, the post ep here, I'd like to give a little shout out to MusicGirl 101 :) she often will include different prompts in her reviews, and in one of them she reminded me about some 'lingering eye contact' in a latter scene. Originally this chapter ended when they get to the elevator, but I wanted to punch it up some to hit on all Hotch's personal angsting (Emily had her 15 minutes) and MusicGirl's prompt is what helped me come up with the idea of a little 'montage' recap at the end. So the lesson here is, please don't hesitate to send along your ideas, because even if I've already written the chapter, there's nothing to say that I won't end up adding to it. _

_Next: __**"Mothers & Daughters & Bosses, Oh My!"**_


	17. Mothers, Daughters & Bosses

**Author's Note:** The one where we meet Em's mom. This is a missing scene that could randomly have taken place in the middle of the day. I thought about doing something more in depth with the Ambassador's interaction with Emily and Hotch but, then this idea came to me, and for the reason I state at the bottom, I decided this was the best way to go.

* * *

_Episode – __Honor Among Thieves_

**Mothers & Daughters & Bosses, Oh My!**

Emily was tired. So far the guys hadn't had any luck up in Baltimore, and her mother's contacts in Russia weren't panning out either. She thought maybe after some coffee she could regroup and come at it from a fresh angle. Heading over to the break area she was dismayed to see an empty pot. Damn it people! You're supposed to put on a fresh one when you take the last cup. Rolling her eyes she pulled out the filters and measured out the grounds and the water. After hitting the start button she went back and grabbed her notes from her desk so she'd have something to look at while she waited.

Settling back at the break table she started flipping back through her legal pad to see what they had learned that morning. She just couldn't get over how weird it was having her mother in the office. She's out of the country for years, she comes back to the U.S., Emily sees her twice after that, Thanksgiving and Christmas, then like three months pass and she randomly shows up with two Russian nationals and a dismembered finger.

Who does that?!

Shaking her head in disbelief, Emily looked over to see that the coffee had finished brewing and she got up to get her mug. Except, as she discovered when she opened the cabinet, her mug was missing.

Ergh.

Finally she found it in the mini dishwasher with remnants of 'cup a soup' dried on the bottom of it. Gross. It was probably the same jerk that had taken the last cup of coffee.

Now thoroughly annoyed, Emily pulled down one of the spare mugs from the top shelf. They were for the visitors and they were chipped and generally in sorry shape. She wasn't entirely sure they weren't lead lined but she was pretty much past the point of caring, she just wanted some damn coffee. She yanked the pot off the burner, and of course, in the process ended up splashing boiling hot coffee all over her other hand which she was using to brace the mug. She simultaneously yelped and dropped the carafe. Jumping back, she watched in slow motion as the pot broke against the mug, hit the edge of the counter and then shattered on the floor.

///////////////

Rubbing his temples Hotch, looked down at the half assed theory that he had just sketched out. Maybe. They'd need the Ambassador's help though to pursue it. But given that she started this ball rolling that should be easy enough. So he headed out of his office to ask Prentiss if she could call her mother.

Just as he started down the stairs, Hotch spotted the woman in question at the far end of the bullpen. So, bypassing her desk, he headed straight to their break area just in time to see her scald herself with a full pot of coffee.

CRAP!

He ran halfway across the bullpen, calling out in concern, "God Prentiss are you all right!?

She was bent over with her hand tucked against her chest. And she tried to get out a "yes," but it sounded more like a squeak.

Yeah . . . he frowned as he put his hand on her back . . . that sounded sincere.

After guiding her over to the sink, he turned on the cold water and as Prentiss began to run her hand under the faucet, Hotch took note of the fact that they had attracted a slight crowd. He immediately dispersed them while asking one of the admins to please call maintenance to come clean up the mess. Once that was taken care of Hotch turned back to Prentiss who was just turning off the water.

There were tears in her eyes and she was biting her lip.

His expression softened as he said gently, "let me see it."

Given how she usually kept her personal shields up as fully as he did, hotch knew that it must be pretty bad if she was in that much obvious pain.

Emily shook her head as she blinked away the moisture, "no really sir, it's fine, I'll just . . ."

Hotch interrupted, "Prentiss," she looked up biting the inside of her cheek. Hotch put his own hand out as he continued patiently, "you're clearly not fine, now please, let me see it." Swallowing hard Emily extended her hand, pink splotches on that side. Hotch turned over her palm and then looked up grimacing slightly, "it's burned and you have a small cut."

Cringing Emily looked down turning her hand back and forth, "oh man that's not good." Hotch shook his head "no, no it's not." He pulled out one of the chairs at the table and turned it, "sit." Emily sat down, again cradling her arm, her hand was throbbing, and watched as Hotch went over to get the first aid kit off the wall. Putting the kit down on the table, he started digging through it looking for the burn cream. Good, two packets left. He swung the other chair around to face hers as she extended her hand. Emily made one last half hearted protest, "Hotch really you don't have to do this, I can take care of it." Her boss just looked up and stared at her until she nodded, "or you could do it. You know, either way."

Shaking his head Hotch laid out all of his supplies on the table, "as intrigued as I am at the idea of seeing you attempt to clean and bandage a wounded hand, _one handed_, I think perhaps this way will be faster."

Emily nodded as she closed her eyes. That's pretty much what she'd expected he'd say. She was at least relieved that the nerve endings were finally beginning to quiet down, it wasn't quite as painful as it was initially. Physical pain anyway. She was absolutely mortified that not only had she made a complete ass out of herself in the office, but her boss happened to be walking up at that exact moment and was now tending to her wounds like she was a small child.

She looked up at the ceiling muttering, "God this is so embarrassing."

Tearing open one of the packets Hotch told her matter of factly, "it was just an accident Prentiss, they happen to everyone." She rolled her eyes, "I do seem to have more than my share sir." Hotch tipped his head as he turned to face her, "well, perhaps."

He personally could recall at least three cups of spilled coffee, (one which had belonged to him), and the night of the Super Bowl when they were in the parking lot, she had tripped over, well, nothing, and just last week she'd given Morgan a bloody nose. Though Hotch had seen that one happen and believed that was solely Derek's fault. He'd come up behind her too quickly and he'd startled her. And she'd done as she'd been trained to do . . . she smashed her elbow into his face.

If anything Derek needed to learn how to duck faster.

After blotting the water off her skin with a piece of paper towel, Hotch then went to squeeze the salve onto her hand. But he stopped as he squinted, "you have a piece of glass in there." After picking up the tweezers Hotch looked over at her sympathetically, "I have to dig it out."

Emily closed her eyes and nodded, "of course you do," she sucked in a breath, "ready when you are sir."

_Oh man, this was going to SUCK!_

He moved her hand down to her leg and then held her wrist steady as he gently tweezed out the two little slivers that had embedded themselves in her palm. He couldn't even imagine how much it hurt to have somebody jam a piece of metal into a burn but he had to hand it to her, she had barely flinched. He blotted again, looked okay, the cut was minor, just enough to make it bleed. It never ceased to amaze him how shattered glass could bounce like a rubber ball. He squeezed her wrist, "all done."

Emily opened one eye first, looking down as Hotch picked up the salve again and began to squeeze a small amount on her hand. Emily sighed in relief, so much better. This was like the worst coffee burn she'd ever had, and she'd had her share. Turning back to the kit Hotch found a sterile Q-tip to use as an applicator. As he started tearing the wrapping off Hotch apparently read her mind, "what I don't understand is how the coffee was hot enough to cause this severe a burn." He knew from personal experience that generally a coffee spill just stings for a moment, it doesn't actually leave marks on your skin, which is what she had.

Hotch spread a thin layer of the cream over the small burns on her palm, careful to avoid the cut itself, and then the bright pink spots he saw on the back of her hand. It would probably be fine in a few hours but the cream had Lidocaine in it and would take the sting out of it in the meantime. Biting her lip Emily answered, "the coffee maker has been acting fluky the last couple weeks. Getting too hot sometimes, but it was still working so nobody said anything."

Furrowing his brow, Hotch turned back to get a band aid to cover the small cut, "well it's out of here today. I'll call Operations this afternoon."

He spread the small band-aid over the cut and then leaned back looking up at her. "All done, I know it's going to be hard to not use that hand but just let the cream work for a little while before you wipe it off." He scrunched up his face as he poked his finger back around in the kit, "we really should get some of that spray stuff to leave in here. It's not so messy."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek to hide her amusement. When she first hurt herself Hotch had been in the dad mode of 'there's a problem here and I will fix it,' but now he was transitioning to 'mother hen mode.' Emily enjoyed both subsets of his personality. Given Hotch's stoicism and reserve you might assume that he was rather cold, but once you spent any real time with him you could see he actually was kind of a softie.

She smiled, "thanks Hotch."

"No problem Prentiss," his eyes crinkled slightly, "Jack usually likes a lollipop at this point but I'm afraid I'm all out at the moment."

Emily's mouth twitched, "I guess I'll have to take a rain check then. For future reference I like purple."

Hotch raised an amused eyebrow before he began to throw away the wrappers and close up the kit.

As she watched Hotch cleaning up, Emily began flexing her hand, "so sir, did you only come down to play Clara Barton, or were you actually looking for me?"

For a second Hotch paused as he hung the first aid kit back on the wall, "ah yes, I did have a reason I was coming to see you." He straightened the kit and then turned back and started walking towards his office, "I need you to call your mother. I want to try running something through the Russian consulate and we'll need her help."

Now that the medical emergency had been addressed Hotch shifted quickly back into full professional mode. God forbid anyone in the bullpen start to think he had a soft touch.

That would be disastrous for his reputation.

Emily nodded as she grabbed her notepad off the table and hurried after him across the bullpen.

"Sounds good sir, just so long as you don't want me to call the consulate. Like I said earlier my Russian is terrible." As he entered his office, Hotch spoke over his shoulder, "at least you have enough Russian to be bad at it. The rest of us can't even say that much."

Knowing Hotch was about to put the call on speaker Emily hit the door shut with her shoulder and sat down in the seat opposite his desk.

Hotch put his finger over the speaker button and then looked over, "ready?"

Emily nodded as she slid her chair a little closer to the phone, "ready."

* * *

A few hours later Emily was in the bathroom washing the cream off her hand and replacing her bandage. Her skin was almost its normal hue now and the cut didn't bleed even when she cleaned it out again so she figured she was in good shape.

When she returned to her desk she found a cup of coffee on it. There was a red lollipop on top of the coffee and a note taped on top of the lollipop stick. Her lips twitched as she opened the slip of paper.

'_They only had red.' _

'_P.S. Don't spill it.'_

Emily's eyes crinkled as she sought out Hotch on the other side of the bullpen. He was shaking his head and scowling at one of the members of the B Team, pointing out something that was lost in the case file. As he stormed past her back to his office with the cowering profiler running behind him she folded up the note. She slipped it and the lollipop into her drawer before she smiled to herself.

_'Yep, nothing but an old softie.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: This was inspired by my repeat viewing of Distress. Twice I had to watch that scene with Morgan and Prentiss discussing Vonnegut and the image of her spilling the coffee got stuck in my head. And I know I've seen her spill something before so I have decided she's clumsy. Though I'm a bit clumsy myself so I'm really not throwing any stones here. I knocked a cup of coffee on the couch two weeks ago, had to wash the cover __and__ the cushion underneath. It was quite a production. And the glass flying ridiculous distances, that's also from my life because I once dropped a glass on the kitchen floor, found pieces of it on top of the refrigerator three weeks later! To co-op a line from Seinfeld, "glass can move baby!"_

_Also, and most importantly about why I went with this approach for this chapter, it was an opportunity for Hotch to provide some completely legit TLC to Emily long before either of them will be allowed to provide TLC on any sort of a 'regular' basis._

_Next: __**"Grace Kelly Takes a Bow"**_


	18. Grace Kelly Takes a Bow

**Author's Note:** This is a post ep for that manhunter episode out in the forest. But, given that they were in different states for the majority of it, I decided to do a post ep that had absolutely nothing to do with the episode at all. It was really just an opportunity to pull the whole gang together and do a completely fluffy, semi AU piece while still working in this season.

FYI: This chapter references their original meeting at her mom's house (hence the title).

* * *

_Episode – __Open Season_

**Grace Kelly Take a Bow**

When they arrived back from Idaho Emily practically catapulted over Reid to get off the jet first. And then she ran full sprint down the steps, across the tarmac and into the building.

The door was already closing before anyone else had even put a foot on solid pavement.

As he looked across the field Reid rubbed his shoulder from where Emily had clipped him going out the door.

"I wonder what that's about?"

With a poke of his finger in Reid's back to keep him moving down the steps, Derek rolled his eyes at Emily's behavior.

"Who knows man? She's a woman. Don't even try to figure them out."

"OWWW!!"

Derek rubbed his head as he turned around to give JJ a dirty look, "God JJ! That hurt!"

JJ slipped her laptop bag back on her shoulder as she scowled at him, "well it's going to hurt a lot more if you keep talking crap about us Derek."

Dumbass. She was standing RIGHT there! What the hell did he expect she was going to do?!

Gideon was just stepping through the open doorway and surmised from the looks being exchanged . . . and the sore body parts being rubbed by the boys . . . that they had both screwed up in some manner and had their hats handed to them, by one . . . or both . . . of their female counterparts.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Now, now children," he said patiently, "kindergarten rules, play nice and keep your hands to yourselves."

There were grumbles of agreement from the chastised members of the team, as the three of them, with Gideon and Hotch bringing up the rear, headed into the building and crossed the corridors and walkways to get back to the glass domicile of the BAU.

They were all a bit surprised to see that there was no sign of Emily in there. Hotch knew it wasn't like her to take off at Olympic speed from a barely stopped aircraft without so much as a yell of departure. But the consensus was that they were in a secure building, she was a big girl and she could take care of herself. So after dropping off their files and picking up their mail they started heading back out to the elevators.

It was after six and nobody really wanted to stay late on a Friday night. Even Hotch had made a quick turnaround in his office and he jogged over from the glass doors to catch the elevator which had just arrived for the rest of the team.

Just as the door was about to shut Hotch heard a yelp of "hold that door please!"

But before anyone could hit the button, Emily had come diving into the rapidly receding space, tripping on her heels and flying into Hotch. He caught her against his chest before she went tumbling to the floor. And as their eyes caught he knew that they were both flashing on the last time she had made such a graceful entrance through a doorway that Hotch was on the other side of.

And as he thought back, Hotch couldn't help his eyes from sparkling for a second as she muttered a sheepish "sorry sir," as she straightened up and slipped herself between his body and Spencer's.

Maybe it was just the reminiscence of the last entrance like that . . . she was even wearing a red dress which Hotch noted was a good color for her . . . but all he could think as she was pressed up against his side was that she didn't smell like she did last time. Then he took a clandestine sniff of her neck.

Huh . . . he wrinkled his nose slightly . . . not only did she not smell the same as last time, she didn't even smell like she usually did. Then . . . before he caught his tongue . . . he'd accidentally blurted out the first thought that came to his mind.

"Prentiss you smell funny."

Emily turned to give her boss an incredulous look.

"Wow sir! It's a good thing you're a married man, because with a pickup line like that you'd beating them off with a stick."

At Emily's response the younger members of the team tried to hide their snickers and Gideon just smiled as he looked up at the ceiling.

Their reaction didn't escape Hotch's attention and he narrowed his gaze as he looked back at the woman to his left, "what I MEANT was, you don't smell like you usually do."

And he knew that he'd just dug the hole even deeper. Because he got a lot of looks at that announcement. And he knew from the raised eyebrows that the consensus of the team's thoughts was 'what's Hotch doing taking note of what Emily smells like?'

Then he noticed that Prentiss was starting to turn a little pink, and Hotch . . . though it wasn't apparent to the group . . . was actually a bit flustered. His mouth hardly ever made unplanned utterances and that was two in a row.

So he did what he always did in that rare situation when he said something embarrassing . . . he stared everyone down until the moment passed.

Unfortunately for Spencer though, as he was standing the next closest in proximity to Prentiss, he was chosen as the sacrificial lamb so Hotch could retain his control of the situation.

"Reid," he barked, "does Prentiss smell like she usually does?"

Spencer squawked out, "what?" and then he cleared his throat, "um, no, no sir, actually she doesn't. For the past three months she generally smells like a combination of cinnamon and apples, right now she smells like lavender and," he leaned over to take another whiff, "musk?" He concluded with an enthusiastic, "it's nice!"

And then Hotch saw him promptly turn a shade of red known by the Crayola people as 'vermillion.'

At Reid's confirmation that Emily did indeed smell "nice" Derek, JJ, and a guy that Emily recognized as Johnson from Accounting, moved closer to sniff for themselves.

Having had enough attention for one evening, Emily drew a line in the sand.

"Okay guys!" she put her hands up, "Back off! It's just a new perfume, I have a date."

JJ squealed, causing all the men to mentally roll their eyes, "ooh, with who!?"

Emily _openly_ rolled her eyes in response, "nobody. Just some guy my mother wanted me to meet."

Then Emily turned back to JJ, brushing her hair against Hotch's shoulder, "I told you she and I have been talking a bit since that case?" As JJ nodded Emily continued "well this guy is some mid-level Ukrainian diplomat, she asked me for a favor, and she hasn't tried to pimp me out in at least a decade so I figured I'd extend an olive branch and say yes."

The men might as well have not been on the elevator as the women continued chatting as the car stopped and started in its slow journey down to the parking levels.

Finally Emily concluded, ". . . then I was thinking we wouldn't get back in time to go but," she checked her watch, "I should just make it." Then she shook her head, "I packed my dress and heels in my ready bag and then had to shave my legs in the ladies room."

Not fun. And fortunately this guy didn't have a chance in hell of going home with her because she'd only shaved up as far as her knees. Any higher and she would have needed a spotter in the bathroom so she didn't break her neck.

Reid made a horrible face, "Emily that's disgus . . .,"

And Hotch cut him off, "be quiet Spencer."

Hotch had once seen Haley give him the look that Prentiss was giving to Reid so Hotch knew that Reid had only moments to live if he didn't shut his mouth.

Now seeing what Hotch had seen seconds before him . . . Emily's fingers curling into a fist . . . Reid clamped his jaw shut with an audible click.

With the near homicide averted, the word "heels" finally permeated the brains of those carrying a Y chromosome. And Hotch couldn't help but notice that every man on the elevator . . . himself included . . . all leaned back to take a surreptitious glance down.

Of course Derek . . . ruining his covert behavior . . . whistled at what he saw.

"Damn chica! What are those? Three inches?"

Hotch raised his eyebrow as he gave Prentiss' legs another . . . purely clinical . . . appraisal.

_Hmm, maybe even four inches. She was almost even with him._

Though her dress was very modest . . . it went down to her knees . . . the length of the heel elongated . . . and accentuated . . . the view available.

And married man or not, Hotch had to admit that it was indeed a nice view.

Objectively speaking.

Emily huffed out her breath, "yeah, I know. But this guy is supposed be like 6'6 or something so I wanted to try and even out the playing field. The last thing I want is some letch towering over me peering down my dress."

At that Hotch noted that all of the men unconsciously straightened up, even though they had not been looking in the direction of Emily's chest.

They were looking at her legs.

When the elevator car finally reached level 'P3' and Gideon, Morgan and JJ said their goodbyes and headed off. Johnson got off on Level 2, but not before he turned back to look longingly at Emily's shoes.

"Those are some really nice high heels ma'am. Do you know if they make them in a 13?"

Emily had barely done more than drop her jaw before the doors shut in his face.

As she shook her head wildly and scrunched up her face Emily let her displeasure over that inquiry be known, "ewww! Eww, eww! Fetish Boy liked my shoes!! Oh man, I can't wear these again!"

Hotch's jaw quivered and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

Reid of course did not help matters as he started to pipe up with the statistical connection between sexual gratification and women's footwear. Again Hotch had to intervene.

"Spencer, be quiet," he hissed.

Reid . . . who had been gesticulating wildly . . . looked up at Hotch. And his boss then tipped his head slightly towards the woman who did not need to be reminded that she . . . or more specifically her evening wear . . . were perhaps going to be featured players in some very disgusting fantasies.

As Reid looked over at Emily all he could think was that he couldn't recall ever having seen that look on her face before.

Then his eyes widened . . . oh crap!

He pulled his messenger bag more protectively around his front as he looked up impatiently at the display pane which was just clicked down to their level.

_Oh thank God!_

The car finally stopped on Parking Level 1 and Reid bolted to the left with a "bye guys" while Hotch and Emily turned right and started walking through the cavernous, mostly empty lot.

Their heels echoed on the concrete.

Then Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly as he pointed out the obvious, "he's a little bit afraid of you."

Emily smiled, "he saw me pin Morgan on the mat a couple months ago. Reid's been giving me a wide berth ever since."

Though he hadn't said anything at the time . . . that was the point where he was kind of treating her like shit for no reason at all . . . but Emily knew that he'd been there that day.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "you pinned Derek? That's very impressive Prentiss."

It was actually incredibly impressive. Hotch himself generally had to go through his paces when he was sparring with Derek. That was until he figured out . . .

Then Emily interrupted his musings "not really, once I figured out he shifts his body weight to his left heel when he's getting ready to charge, then it was lickety split, and over he went."

Hotch stopped and looked at her, his eyes twinkling in amusement, "you saw that too? I've been debating about whether I should say something to him but I had hoped he'd figure it out on his own."

Emily looked up with a smirk, "well he hasn't figured it out yet. But in his defense he is the man to beat down there so as long as he's top dog, he's not going to question his techniques. And really Hotch, he is almost invincible, so what are the odds that he's going to be out in the field tackling an UNSUB with special behavioral observation skills?"

With a tip of his head Hotch acknowledged, "good point Prentiss. We'll let it go for now," he quirked his lip as they continued walking, "although I would like to be told ahead of time the next time you two are scheduled to go the gym."

"An engraved invitation will be forthcoming sir."

They stopped at Emily's car and Hotch nodded, "you have a good time tonight, and remember . . ."

Emily interrupted, "I know, always get my own drinks." Then she smiled softly at his concern, "it's not my first trip to the rodeo sir, but thanks."

A shadow of a smile passed Hotch's lips before he said goodnight. And he started to turn away as she got into her car, but then a thought came to him and he turned back.

"Oh and Prentiss . . ."

Seeing Emily look up at him over her open door as she said , "yes sir?" Hotch shot her a dimple, "you look very nice."

For a moment he had debated about whether he should say anything, but she did indeed look VERY nice. And she seemed a little frazzled about her date so he thought it might make her feel better.

Emily looked down at her dress, and when she looked back over to her boss she could feel her face was warm.

That was unexpected.

And she had to bite her lip to keep the grin from spreading completely across her face as she nodded back, "thank you sir."

Hotch waited while she drove off, Prentiss giving him a short wave, and then he continued down to his own car two spaces down. He put his briefcase in back and then sat down, letting the engine warm up for a moment thinking about what he had just seen and thinking back on the night that they met.

Hmmm, apparently that first night wasn't an aberration; she really _is_ adorable when she's embarrassed.

Interesting.

Hotch felt much better about his initial response that day in July. It turns out he was simply reacting to an empirical fact, it had not been an inappropriate hormonal reaction.

He nodded to himself as he moved the gear from Park to Drive and started home to his wife.

* * *

_A/N 2: I don't really know if they got back on a Friday night, but I have nothing to say that they didn't :)_

_If the Morgan/Emily sparring story sounded familiar, it's from chapter 34 of The Hours, "Powerless." Reid told it the first time. And I know Emily was all angsty on the plane but she had like a six hour flight to make her peace with the whole 'thinking like a monster' thing. _

_I MIGHT put up an extra chapter this weekend like I did last week, but again, no promises. In Birth and Death has been kicking my ass! I thought I was done with it and then I decided to add one more scene, and then one more scene, and now it's almost 4000 words spread over 2 chapters. If I don't stop writing soon Arc's going to need an extra week to read the damn thing. So if I finish that to my (and then Arc's) satisfaction, then I will be able to move on to cleaning up the next few episodes in season three, which I actually have started writing. So basically, if you want an extra chapter, pray for my OCD to allow me to let In Birth and Death go!_

_Prompts: I have no ideas for "In Heat" so if you have any thoughts on something you'd like to see, please share. Thanks kids!_

_Next: __**"Who Me?"**_


	19. Who Me?

**Author's Note:** To quote Monty Python, and now for something completely different.

This is the episode that ends with them watching the Charlie Chaplin films. I extended the scene out a little bit, but I didn't want to rehash what was already onscreen so I decided to do it as straight dialogue, no thoughts, no descriptive actions. Flying without a net people!

* * *

_Episode – __Legacy_

**Who Me?**

"Prentiss?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you just throw popcorn in my hair?"

"No, sir."

"Prentiss?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yes, sir."

"How upset am I going to be when I look in the mirror?"

"VERY, sir."

"Any thoughts on avoiding that outcome Prentiss?"

"Um, well, you could become Amish and remove all the mirrors from your home or . . . and I'm just throwing stuff out here, I could perhaps come over and remove said popcorn from your hair now before you leave the room."

"Let's go with that second one."

"I like how you think, sir."

"Excuse me, JJ."

"Wow! It didn't look like this much from over there."

"Is there a problem Prentiss?"

"Nope, no problem at all sir."

"JJ, could you pass my . . ."

"This one?"

"Yep, thanks."

"That is so cute!"

"I KNOW! I got it on sale!"

"No way! How much?"

"LADIES!"

"Sorry Gideon."

"Sorry sir."

"Prentiss, what are you . . ."

"Sir?"

"Simply removing the popcorn was sufficient. You didn't actually have to _comb_ my hair."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"And Prentiss, did you really think rubbing spit in my hair was the best way to fix my part?"

"In retrospect, no sir."

"Okay, you can go sit down now."

"Thank you sir."

"And Morgan?"

"Yeah, Hotch?"

"_You_ can stop snickering now."

"Really Morgan, at least Hotch has hair for Emily to spit in."

"Shut up Spencer!"

* * *

_A/N 2: The back and forth with Hotch and Emily (the first eight lines) popped in my head one day and those clearly had to be stand alone. But after I scribbled them down I realized it might be funnier to see if I could do the whole story in the same style. Hopefully, if I did it correctly, everybody could picture what was going on, and who was talking. But, if you aren't sure about something just drop me a line. And please let me know what you thought about it! I wouldn't be averse to trying another one somewhere in the AU part of the story. It's a good way to pull the whole group into a scene. It was also the fastest damn chapter I ever wrote! The whole thing was done in under three minutes!_

_Good news on the extra posting front, the muse apparently drank some Red Bull so I now have chapters in various stages of completion for the first seven consecutive episodes of season three. And tomorrow I'm posting the finale of season two so I definitely think I'm far enough out to slip an extra one into the mix this weekend. As always, you know how to get it up faster. And I can almost guarantee that the next one will be a crowd pleaser!_

_Next: __**"A Bloody Mess"**_


	20. A Bloody Mess

**Author's Note**: Total aside, nobody told me we were changing the clocks last night! Wandering around the house at "6:45" on a Sunday morning UTTERLY perplexed trying to figure out why it's still dark out. Then I realized the cable box didn't match the coffee maker and the stove (the alarm clock is hopelessly out of sync) and some small addled part of my brain realized it was that time of year again and I went back to bed.

ANYWAY, moving off the topic of my idiocy, season two finale where Frank returns and Emily has the jawdropping last scene. This is a Post Ep. Arc requested some internal dialogue on this one, but for the first time ever, I didn't do what she asked me to do. It's hard to even write those words. I was planning on doing it, really hon, I swear, but then I woke up one day and this idea was in my brain. Sometimes you just have to listen to the little voices in your head. And I actually was planning on doing the internal dialogue thing as a separate chapter before this one, and then, well, I forgot :)

FYI: I hope you enjoyed the funny in the last two chapters because if you'll recall the events from the next few episodes, it's going to be a rough couple days for our favorite crime fighters.

* * *

_No Way Out Two: The Evilution of Frank_

**A Bloody Mess**

Emily walked back into the BAU in a daze.

Hotch's insinuations when she started had been right. She was a spy . . . she just hadn't known it.

Good God, she wanted to throw up.

Strauss had pulled strings to get her on the team. Emily thought she'd really earned her position, but no, Strauss just wanted her to help bring down the team. She wanted her to spy on Hotch.

Destroy his career.

With her eyes burning, Emily crossed over to her desk to get her bag. She couldn't do that to him . . . her breath hitched as the first tear ran down her face . . . she would _never_ do that to him.

_God, what was she going to do?!_

/*/*/*/

Hotch was sitting up in his office trying to figure out what to do about Strauss and her not so veiled threats.

The woman was dangerous.

Though he was thinking that maybe if they could just keep a low profile for the next few months, she'd lose interest in him and move on to poking her nose into somebody else's unit. He shook his head as he stared down at his desk blotter.

Maybe.

Though as he checked the time, he realized that he'd allowed the woman to consume enough of his attention for one day. It was time to pack up. Tomorrow he could consider his options again.

Perhaps some new idea would come to him.

Just as he was tucking his laptop into his bag, Hotch heard noises from the bullpen. His eyebrow quirked up.

It was late and the cleaning crew had already been through, so Hotch walked over and peered through the blinds.

Prentiss.

Huh.

He thought she'd left hours ago. He started to turn go back to his desk when suddenly he noticed something.

Was she . . . he squinted . . . crying?

Hotch walked over to his open door and looked down the stairs.

She _was_ crying! What was that about?

With a furrowed brow, he walked out of his office and down the stairs, stopping just behind her desk.

If she noticed his presence she didn't let on, so he tried not to startle her as he said softly.

"Prentiss, are you okay?"

Startled, Emily looked up to see Hotch standing over her looking concerned.

Crap.

It was so late that she'd thought everyone had gone. But of course Hotch was still here . . . she sniffled . . . of course he was still here because he lived and breathed this place. He cared about these cases, and the team. And Strauss wanted to take that from him. It wasn't even just the job itself she wanted, but his whole career.

And he worked so hard and . . . oh God, now she was really crying! Crying in front of him! Oh God, this totally SUCKED!

Emily put her hands up to try to cover her face. As though maybe then he wouldn't notice her sobbing in the middle of the bullpen.

Real slick Em.

Hotch's jaw fell open . . . he was utterly flabbergasted. Emily Prentiss was not a crier. At least not that he'd ever seen, and certainly not in the office. What the hell could have happened to upset her so much?

_Well, obviously something very bad you idiot! _

He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he watched her trying to hide her tears. Though he so badly wanted to reach out and touch her arm, he thought it best to put his hands in his pockets instead. Then he sat down on the corner of her desk.

"Prentiss," he started gently, "what happened? Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," Emily frantically started rubbing her hand across her face as she tried to stop crying, "I'm okay. I uh, uh," she sniffed, "I got some bad news earlier, and um, it's just hitting me a little harder than I would have, have," she sucked in a shuddered breath, "thought!"

The last part came out as a bit of a stuttered sob, but there was nothing she could do about it. Plus now she'd just lied to him. And she hated to lie to him, it made her feel like that somehow made her complicit in Strauss' plan. But God, what else was she supposed to do?

She sure as hell couldn't tell him the truth!

Then Hotch leaned down slightly and asked sympathetically.

"Is there anything I can do?"

And now he was being NICE to her! He was being nice to her because he thought she was hurting. And Strauss wanted to destroy _him_? But why? He was a good man. Didn't she understand that?

Didn't that MATTER!?

Then Emily . . . to her chagrin . . . started to sob even harder.

_EVERYTHING WAS RUINED!_

She sucked in another shaking breath.

It was time for her to leave. To leave the BAU. No . . . no, even worse, she had to leave the Bureau. As long as she was in the FBI, Strauss would fine a way to keep her under her thumb. But she wouldn't be a party to any of her crap.

It was wrong.

Hotch felt a physical pain of empathy for Emily as she doubled over and began to sob uncontrollably.

Okay . . . his brow wrinkled slightly . . . that was the first time that he had consciously thought of her as Emily and not simply 'Prentiss'. Then he quickly chastised himself for the thought.

Not a topic for review right now Aaron! She was clearly devastated about something, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

Or his hands.

They really, _really_ wanted to come out of his pockets! He balled his hands into fists.

Oh screw it.

It was a huge violation of his personal no touching policy, but he figured that he could make an exception this once. For God's sake the woman had mascara RUNNING down her face!

Was he a monster?!

So Hotch pushed himself off her desk, and reached over to tug Emily to her feet. Then he pulled her to his chest, placing one hand in the middle of her back and the other on her elbow.

It felt a bit strange hugging her . . . as a rule he really didn't hug anyone outside of his immediate family . . . but not as strange as he would have expected.

Emily was a little thrown when Hotch suddenly pulled her to his chest, but she quickly got over her surprise.

It was a sympathetic port in the storm.

So she clutched one hand to his lapel, and bent the other between them to grasp her own collar. And then she awkwardly cried on her boss' shoulder.

She realized it was a good thing that she was leaving, because otherwise she would have been pretty mortified right about then. But as it was she didn't much care. She was grieving for her career, which was now in tatters. Almost two decades of her life she worked to get where she was.

And now she had to walk away from it.

But she couldn't just quit right now. Hotch obviously would connect her complete emotional breakdown with her sudden departure, and then he'd start investigating. And the last thing she wanted was for him to know about her meeting with Strauss. Right now he still thought well of her.

For God's sake the man was letting her cry on his shoulder!

And she didn't want him to know that he had been right about her . . . that she'd been assigned to the unit as an informer. He might think that she'd been reporting back on them all along. He'd hate her . . . they all would.

And she couldn't bear that.

Not after everything that they'd been through together the last seven months, she had to figure out an exit strategy first. But either way, she thought as she hiccuped against his chest, she would be gone soon.

Realizing she needed to get it together, she finally leaned back and wiped her face.

"I'm really sorry, sir," she sniffed, "that was very unprofessional."

Feeling his countenance softening with exasperation, Hotch let go of Emily and took a step back.

"Prentiss, it's _fine_." Then he tipped his head down as he asked with concern. "But are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to call anybody?"

Given how uncharacteristic this behavior was, it didn't seem right to just send her off by herself now.

With a quick shake of her head, Emily continued to scrub the tears off her face.

"No sir, thank you though," she sniffed, "I'm just going to go home."

For a moment Hotch stared down at her, his teeth digging into his lip.

"I'll walk you to your car."

But Emily tried to protest.

"No Hotch, it's okay."

"Prentiss," he responded firmly, "it's late. And you're clearly upset and distracted, so I would feel better if I walked you out."

Ordinarily he would have no concerns about her ability to take of herself . . . she'd proven her abilities to him long ago . . . but she was a bit of a mess at the moment. And he'd feel terrible if something happened.

Emily's gaze dropped to the floor for a moment.

He had a small point there. At present she'd probably welcome getting clubbed over the head. So perhaps she wasn't really in the best mental state to be wandering through an empty parking garage by herself.

So she nodded, while leaning over to pick up her bag.

"Thanks."

As he looked her over, Hotch's face and tone softened even further.

"Why don't you go wash your face, and I'll meet you at the elevator?"

At the mention of her face, Emily looked down to see that she had mascara on her hands from rubbing her eyes. Then she cringed as another thought came to her. She looked over to Hotch's shirt.

Damn it!

"Oh sir," she cried out in distress, "I got mascara all over you!"

Nice Em, real nice! Ruin the man's career AND his shirt!

Hotch glanced down dismissively, "don't worry about it," his eyes crinkled as he looked back at her, "mascara's a breeze to get out compared to the strained peas and carrots Jack threw up on me last month. And Mr. Pham got that out no problem."

Emily started to fumble in her bag.

"Well, let me at least pay for your dry cleaning."

"Prentiss."

Her eyes were wide as she looked up to see Hotch gracing her with a rare dimple.

"It's really okay."

Feeling herself involuntarily smiling back, she pulled her hand out of her bag.

"Okay."

Then he tipped his head towards the glass door.

"All right, you wash your face and we'll roll out in five."

Emily nodded and started to turn to leave . . . but then she turned back, catching him as he was on the stairs.

"Sir?" he looked back.

She gave him a sad smile.

"Thank you . . . for everything."

His eyes crinkled slightly as he stared at her for a moment.

"No thanks needed Prentiss."

Their gazes locked for a moment longer before Hotch's lip quirked up and then he turned to continue on to his office.

He was relieved that she seemed better. And though he was definitely curious about what had gotten her so upset, he wouldn't ask. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with him, and therefore wasn't any of his business.

So with a sigh he walked back into his office, went over to his desk, and began packing up cases to take home.

It was probably going to be another late night.

Feeling her eyes burning again as she watched Hotch disappear into his office, Emily turned quickly and started hurrying across the bullpen. Though she was again on the verge of crying, this time the tears were angry. She smashed through the glass.

_'Erin Strauss you conniving bitch! I hope you rot in hell.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: Hugging in season two! Who woulda thunk it? But I actually don't think this was terribly farfetched for a couple reasons. Clearly, Strauss would not have wanted anybody to see her speaking to Emily so that would have been an after hours meeting. Emily, as the shock wore off would have been at minimum, 'terribly upset' by what she had just found out and most likely that would have hit her on the way out the door. Hotch workaholic that he is, could easily have been around. And not being much of a crier myself, I can say that if you're that kind of person, once you start it's generally pretty hard to stop on a dime. Especially as the spiraling thoughts of just how bad this situation really is continue to hit you. Now as to whether Hotch would hug her, of course he would! He just held the hand of that dying chick a couple weeks ago. And that was the UNSUB! If he found any of his agents sobbing hysterically he definitely would try to do something comforting for them. Admittedly Derek and Spencer would probably get that manly shoulder rub thing, but the girls would get an awkward hug. And it would be awkward, but it's the thought that counts. _

_Speaking of thoughts, please share yours :) And I am planning on putting up one more tonight. _

_Next: __**"Rocks & Hard Places"**_


	21. Rocks & Hard Places

**Author's Note:** I know I promised an extra chapter this weekend, and I did post again yesterday, just not here :) If you've read The Hours, and have not yet come across this yet on your own, I put up a new story on Sunday, 'Life & Such,' a continuation of their lives post the finale. It's a one shot for the moment but I'll add to it eventually. Probably once I finish up the _eighty or so_ chapters left in this story. Yeah, probably sometime after that. Though if anything else hits me for that part of their lives, I'll put it up earlier, because sometimes you just have to write what wants to be written.

But moving back to the matters at hand, season three opener! Wow! Seems like only yesterday Emily and Hotch were the 'off to change the world,' fresh faced young 'ins making googly eyes at each other at her mom's house. And now here we are, eleven years and twenty chapters later and their careers are imploding and their personal lives are about to follow. Mmm, good times. So, this is the case at the college that goes horribly wrong, Strauss starts putting the screws to Em, and Gideon starts playing with his gun up in the cabin. This is a missing scene and a post ep, though I suppose the post ep is also a missing scene because that's a conversation that would have had to take place.

* * *

_Episode – Doubt_

**Rocks & Hard Places**

Emily threw her phone into the car in disgust.

Though she hoped it would break, unfortunately it just bounced down onto the floor.

Well, that's it, she'd assumed that there would be a little more time to get her plans in order but clearly she was going to have to go now. Strauss had started tightening the noose she'd thrown around her neck last week and it was time to get out. She felt a wave of sadness hit her . . . this was going to be her last case. And she thought with irony, it figures that so far it wasn't going well. She snorted, too bad she couldn't blame Strauss for that too.

With a huff she climbed into the car and started driving back to the precinct.

Okay, so as soon as she got home she'd sign up for the Foreign Service Exam. She certainly had enough years of informal training with her mother to qualify her for diplomatic work.

In fact . . . she tried to bolster a little enthusiasm . . . her overseas experiences combined with her FBI training meant the Foreign Service actually would probably be a really good fit for her!

Christ . . . Emily sighed . . . who was she kidding? Just because you were technically _qualified_ to do something didn't mean you actually WANTED to do it. She was only trying to get excited about the transfer because it was the only option she had left to her. She shook her head . . . no use lingering on the things that can't be changed.

So now, what to tell the team?

The long and short answer was . . . nothing. They were profilers for God's sake, it would take them five seconds to realize there was something shady going on. So no, unfortunately she couldn't even say goodbye to them.

It would be too hard anyway.

Now that things had gone back to normal with Reid they were all starting to feel like real friends, and it just SUCKED that she had to leave them! Ergh. No, definitely no one on one conversations with anybody . . . except . . . Hotch.

Damn. And here comes another shot of cortisol coursing through her bloodstream.

She had to tell Hotch personally. Not only was he her boss, but really . . . she owed him that much. He'd given her a chance when he had no reason to trust her. And though she knew his trust had not been misplaced, it turned out that his suspicions hadn't been either. She pulled into the parking lot of the police station.

So it's settled, get home, sign up for the exam, put in her papers and tell Hotch.

She put her head down on the steering wheel.

_God, this sucked._

/*/*/*/*

Suspended! Hotch had never even been suspended in high school, hell he'd never even received a DETENTION in high school! But now he gets a suspension as an adult, with a real job! He'd known things had gone badly in Flagstaff, and he did take responsibility for that, but still. That was another situation where they'd made the best decisions they could given what they'd known at the time.

Strauss never seemed to get that.

The woman had almost no field experience and just didn't understand that sometimes all they had were bad choices to choose from. Sometimes they got lucky . . . and sometimes they got screwed.

And Haley! He told her about the case in Arizona . . . in general terms of course . . . and then about the suspension. And though she was of course indignant on his behalf, she had immediately jumped onto the "maybe this is for the best" bandwagon.

And just for a second . . . Hotch had hated her. Just for that second, and then he'd felt the guilt wash over him. She was trying to be supportive, not vindictive.

His head knew that, but his gut had still needed to go for a drive to get some fresh air.

Now he was parked on Constitution, looking over the lights of the monuments on the Mall.

Maybe she had a point, maybe he should consider getting out from under Strauss' thumb. He'd always just accepted her as part of the job, like the fact that people occasionally shot bullets at him.

It wasn't pleasant, but you learned to duck and weave and hopefully you got through the day with all your limbs still attached. But given all the problems he was having at home, maybe it was time to make a change. Hell, women had to choose how to balance their families and careers all the time. And more often than not, they stepped back from work and focused on home.

So maybe it was time he did that too.

It's not like he and Haley were kids that had gotten pregnant in high school. No, he'd made informed, deliberate, choices. He'd _chosen_ to get married, and he'd _chosen_ to have a child, so now maybe it was time to choose to do what was best for them, and not what was best for him. It was about time he put them first . . . he nodded . . . he'd been selfish before. This will be good, he'll find something boring and low key, like white collar maybe, and that will him tie him to a desk where there was no possibility of getting shot and he'd always be home for dinner. Like a normal father. Like a normal husband. Haley was right, maybe this was for the best.

This would be good for everyone.

Christ . . . he sighed . . . who was he kidding? Just because it was the right thing to do didn't mean that he had to be _happy_ about doing it. He was only trying to get enthusiastic about the idea because otherwise he'd have to focus on how he hated even the IDEA of transferring with every fiber of his being!

A desk job! He wasn't cut out for a desk job! He was on SWAT for God's sake! People who join SWAT don't take desk jobs, there's no adrenaline in a desk job. And he'd have to give up the cases . . . he breathed these cases.

Not to mention giving up the team.

Oh God . . . the team. He felt a wave of something, grief maybe, hit him. He'd have to leave them.

The BAU had been his home for almost a decade. And with their current configuration they'd finally started to really gel again. Like before . . . before Boston. He'd liked Elle, well up until she summarily executed a suspect, but Prentiss had fit in much better than Elle ever had. It wasn't just her skill set, which was impressive, but she just had a better personality. Elle could be abrasive at times.

Also . . . Hotch huffed slightly . . . Prentiss was funny.

Not that he would ever tell her that, but the woman did amuse him. So even given their not insubstantial setbacks as of late, the group had really come together. He knew he wasn't personally indispensable, but he also knew that he was a piece of that group, and his departure was going to throw them off again.

And Gideon was having a hard enough time lately as it was.

Hotch hadn't spoken to him since they'd come home from Arizona. He figured he'd give him some space to deal with everything that had happened. But now he was going to come back and Hotch would be on his way out, and most likely one of Strauss' little errand boys, or girls, would be lined up to take his place.

_His_ place . . . he closed his eyes . . . it was truly his place. And he really didn't want to leave it.

He put his head down on the steering wheel.

_God this sucked._

* * *

_A/N 2: If you're familiar with The Hours, you know sometimes I like to go for a little symmetry in my H/P pieces and I did that again here, because though they are not 'together' at this point, I'm still allowing them their whole soul mates wavelength connection thing. Also, it just reads prettier :)_

_I did that bit with his thoughts about Haley as a bit of foreshadowing for the second part of the 'In Birth & Death' chapters. You'll see. I also think Hotch is a really bad communicator because although I'm letting him make some very valid points about why a transfer would KILL him, you notice I didn't have him tell Haley those things. And that's because I'm sure canon Hotch didn't either. If he had, though they might have still been at an impasse, I don't think things would have unraveled quite so quickly if he'd really EXPLAINED the why. Because Haley doesn't know 'Hotch' she knows 'Aaron' so she isn't going to understand about the work, and the adrenaline, and the team dynamics. She doesn't see any of that, so how would she know if doesn't tell her? I'm still on Hotch's side of course, because it's like if he was your friend and your loyalty automatically defaults even if you know that person wasn't completely blameless. But having to actually __think__ about their relationship to do this chapter and the upcoming ones, I could genuinely see how this was a long time coming, and it's really too bad they didn't explore it better onscreen because they could have mined some nice angst out of it! Because I rolled up my sleeves and dug up a couple very angsty nuggets, and you can read them on Wednesday :)_

_Reviews are, as always, appreciated, even if I don't write back individually to everyone, please know that as a general rule :) And please check out the new story and let me know what you think! That is definitely one you are welcome to submit ideas for because literally, not a CLUE, what I'm going to do with them. Though TFM, I have decided definitively NOT to go the "Em realizes she's a man trapped in a woman's body route." Which reminds me, Arc now that your story is winding down, TFM and I have a little project for you . . ._

_Next: __**"Mud & Blood"**_


	22. Mud & Blood

**Author's Note:** Finally, the episode SO BIG it couldn't be contained in one chapter! Of course this is the one where Emily quits, Hotch transfers and Strauss yells at that guy from NYPD Blue. I honestly could have done a scene by scene recap of this entire episode from everybody's point of view, but for time constraint purposes clearly that wasn't feasible. I covered what I could, but I left out a few events that I'm going to touch on at a later date. This chapter alone still clocked in at over 5000 words, so if you see any typos, my apologies. I do a final edit before I post, and it's a lot to read in one sitting when you're looking for minor defects and verb conjugation, my eyes are crossing. Actually I think I'm getting a migraine. Arc has checked this, but I was fussing with a few parts as I was reading so if there are any issues, it would be in there.

This is internal dialogue running throughout and a few missing scenes. You'll notice in Emily's apartment, with the exception of the last couple lines, almost everything they say aloud is dialogue from the show.

And fun fact, today's Paget Brewster's birthday! I'm not creepy and stalkerish, I just randomly stumbled across the information this week. Now, on with the show!

* * *

_Episode – In Birth and Death_

**Mud & Blood**

Astonished, Hotch stared at the empty doorway. Why the hell was Prentiss resigning? She loved this job, and she'd busted her ass to prove she belonged here.

What could make her leave?

Though . . . his brain started processing what he'd just seen . . . Strauss was clearly uncomfortable at her announcement. And then there were the looks that passed between the two women as Prentiss left with her parting remarks about his return.

He started to wonder.

And then he listened to Strauss extol the virtues of protecting the Bureau over finding the killer of four women, and he looked more closely at her as she stared at the carpet, twisting her jaw. Then his gaze dropped down and he could see she was digging her fingernails into her palm.

His eyes narrowed . . . what did she do to her? He tried to flip back through Prentiss' behavior looking for something out of the ordinary that would give him a clue.

The crying!

That night he found her crying in the bullpen. And she'd been missing for a few hours. Come to think of it . . . that was the same day he'd had his run in with Strauss after the Frank/Crazy Jane cluster.

His eyes shifted back over to the puppet master who was clearly trying to get her anger under control before she turned back to him.

That conniving witch.

He shook his head . . . he couldn't deal with this right now. He was transferring out anyway. Maybe Prentiss would be better off at the State Department. If he wasn't here then he couldn't protect her from Strauss.

Though, as he thought back to her red rimmed eyes and the mascara running down her face, he realized with disgust that it was clear that he hadn't been able to protect her when he was here either.

/////////

It was just one more case. Why couldn't Haley understand? He thought Gideon would be back, but now that Hotch knew he wasn't, well he couldn't leave them down _three_ people.

That would be irresponsible, and in their line of work being irresponsible could get people killed. He'd go and help them with this case and then he'd be done.

Hotch grabbed his duffel off the bed and started out the door.

But first, he needed to talk to Prentiss.

/////////

Hearing a knock on the door, Emily went over and checked the peephole.

Ergh . . . she suppressed her groan . . . what is he _doing_ here? Doesn't he know that he needs to stay away from her?

Trying to holster her annoyance, she unlocked the deadbolt to face her former boss. A man who was supposed to be staying far, far away so that he . . . unlike _she_ . . . could continue to enjoy a fruitful career at the FBI.

"Can I come in?"

Though it was clear from the expression on her face that Prentiss wasn't pleased to see him, Hotch still went with the forceful, have every right to be there tone. It worked in most situations.

And it seemed to be working again here too. Because with a resigned look she stepped back to allow him entrance.

Excellent.

_What would he have done if she'd said no?_ Emily mused to herself as she moved away from the door. That might have been funny, and her life had been seriously lacking in the funny lately. Bleh, now she's trying to amuse herself with the fantasy proxy of pushing his buttons.

Pathetic.

Just let him say his peace and he'll go. He probably just wants to tell her again what a big mistake she was making.

Hotch could tell that Prentiss wanted him to go, and that pretty much confirmed his theory on why she had left. They had a good relationship, both personal and professional. She hadn't been pissed off to find him in her face since that awful blowup during the prostitute murders. And that was eight months ago.

Practically a lifetime.

_Okay, Aaron just get it over with, you can't get her back if you don't at least try._

"The team needs us . . ."

Is he _actually_ standing here telling her about a case in Milwaukee? Emily asked herself in astonishment.

_REALLY? Yeah, hi, I quit! I no longer WORK there! Girl trying to save her soul and your career over here! Any of this ringing a bell? _

It took a few more seconds but then finally acknowledgment that she didn't . . . whoa, wait, _he_ had put in for a transfer?

She wrinkled her brow in confusion, "_you_ put in for a transfer?"

Choosing to ignore her implied question, he gave her the more general response, "they're both still hung up in the system so technically we're both in dereliction of duty by not being there."

Dereliction of duty! Is he serious with this shit? Admittedly, he'd thrown her with the transfer announcement, but it's not like this was all just routine paperwork that needed to be sorted out. There were bigger issues here, and if he had put in for a transfer himself, then he had to have _some_ inkling of that. She gave him an annoyed look.

"I'm sorry I CAN'T go."

Hotch could see she had all of her defenses up. Sometimes he could read her so easily but other times . . . she really could shutter everything off. Though he knew he did that himself.

One of the benefits of being a profiler, knowing how to hide your tells.

But either way, this was ridiculous. He'd thought he could get her to open up to him about Strauss, but honestly, what difference did it make? What was he even doing here? She had a right to leave if she wanted to leave. And he had no right to make her feel guilty about it. Hell, he had already put in for a transfer! Granted, one he was seriously regretting, but what was he thinking dragging her back when he wasn't even sure he was going to stay himself?

His eyes fell shut for a second . . . he wasn't accomplishing anything, he should just go and stop bothering her.

Trying to hide his exasperation at the whole situation, he looked back at her.

"I'm sorry I barged in."

Emily watched him turn and start towards the door . . . he had just backed down entirely too easily. He was 'sorry' to bother her. Please. Hotch was a nice guy, but he didn't let little things like social niceties stand in the way of getting the job done . . . which meant his presence here really didn't have _anything_ to do with the case. He was one of the most stubborn people she'd ever met, he would have stood there until he wore her down if that was it.

There was something else going on.

Her face scrunched up in confusion . . . she did want him out of there but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

"Wait," she called out, "wait, can I ask? Why are you really here?"

He paused and turned back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he debated for a moment what to say. Evasive seemed the best way to go, "I told you."

But given the incredulous look she was giving him, apparently she wasn't buying that as a complete answer. He stared at her for a moment.

Fine, she wants to know the truth, he'll tell her the truth. Cards on the table. Maybe if he threw down his, she'd throw down hers.

"I think Strauss came to you and asked for dirt on me," he blurted out.

Her eyes popped . . . he'd figured it out. Oh God, he'd figured it out! Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he just suspected. She wasn't folding that quickly, not until she knew what he knew.

Emily tried to school her features as she hardened her tone, challenging him, "WHY would she do that?"

Hotch just looked at her . . . it looked like she wasn't going down without a fight on this one. That's okay, he'd wait. He'd already made his choice here, and he knew, if he gave her the time, and showed her that he truly did trust her, that she'd make hers as well.

And to that end, he told her something he hadn't said aloud to anyone before. The reason he knew Strauss really had it in for him.

"I think if you have your eyes on top leadership at the FBI, you want to know who might stand in your way."

As awful and pathetic as that reason was, Emily felt some relief that he'd said it. It was nice to have somebody else say it out loud. To know that she hadn't been crazy. That this was just a foolish and petty political power play.

But it still wasn't enough though, not enough to fold, this was too important. So she shrugged her shoulders dismissively, "and what could I have told her?"

She was trying so hard to be flippant and act like she didn't care. It was so hard though, when he was being so genuine with her. But it was the only way to get through this conversation without having a mini repeat of that night in the bullpen.

Though she was still defensive, Hotch could see he was getting through to her, and he knew the magic bullet to break her armor. He would say what had never been said.

And he did it as he looked her clear in the eye and answered the question.

"That one of my agents may have murdered a suspect in cold blood. Or another might have a serious drug problem that I didn't report . . ."

Emily couldn't believe it. He had said aloud the two things that were forbidden. If either were ever repeated to anyone outside the team, it would have been enough to destroy him.

Possibly even bring charges.

She was planning to take them to her grave, but she was both relieved . . . and horrified . . . that he was saying them to her now. Though . . . given that he was being so honest . . . and that he'd just knocked on her door to come get her to go back with him, she supposed relieved was the dominant emotion here. And she could feel her countenance softening as she listened to him.

". . . and to your credit, you quit, rather than whisper in her ear."

He did know . . . relief flooded her soul . . . and he didn't hate her. She could feel her eyes burning as she looked up at him.

"I told you," her voice got slightly husky, "I _hate_ politics."

Hotch sighed . . . she had told him that. And that was one of the reasons why he knew that she'd never play Strauss' games. But that was just a secondary reason, really he just knew . . . she was better than that.

He looked at her.

"Come to Milwaukee," he made a split second decision that he hoped he wouldn't regret, "I'll make you a deal, if your ready bag isn't here, packed, I won't bug you anymore." He paused, "if it is, I want you on that plane with me. One more case."

He could see he had her with her last feeble effort to put him off because she'd already turned in her badge and gun, so he logically pointed out that was just hardware.

And then he watched her struggling to do the right thing.

Hotch knew that she'd left because of him, and for that he would be eternally grateful. But it wasn't right that she sacrifice herself, her career. She'd worked as hard as he had.

His expression softened for the first time since he'd entered her home, "Prentiss, just do this with me. Don't let Strauss chase you away too."

Emily stared hard at him for a moment . . . God he was really serious about this. He really wanted her to come back. She broke eye contact with him, looking towards the closed door where she kept her bag.

What the hell. One more case.

She walked over to the coat closet, opened the door and reached inside. Then she turned back to him and held out her duffel. Then she quirked up her lip, "always packed and ready sir, it is one of your rules."

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly, and they stared at each other for a moment before Hotch quirked up his own lip. He walked over to her front door, opened it and looked back at her.

"After you Prentiss."

////////

Given their respective personnel situations . . . not to mention the fact the jet left without them . . . they didn't have the luxury of their usual traveling accommodations. Therefore they were going coach on a regular airline like regular people.

It was a bit of an adjustment for both of them.

After picking up their tickets, they had to go to the main security office to prove Hotch had the appropriate certification to carry his service pistol on a domestic flight.

At that point, Hotch could have just gone directly to the terminal but he opted to wait with Emily who still had to go through the regular screening line. A line they'd been standing in for the past ten minutes.

There was a senior citizen's group ahead of them and things were going a little slowly.

As she stood waiting, Emily watched as Hotch checked his cell phone for the fourth time since they'd arrived at the airport. Generally Hotch didn't suffer from OCD so Emily figured something was up. She finally decided to poke her nose into a matter she was quite sure was none of her business. But, she tried to do it subtly.

"Can't get a signal?"

"What?" Hotch looked up quizzically, and she nodded pointedly towards his hand, "signal?"

He looked down like he hadn't realized he was holding anything, "oh, uh, something like that." He closed his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, quickly picking up his bag as he gestured with his head.

"I think the line's moving."

They might have had a whole big bonding moment an hour ago, but he still wasn't about to spill his guts to Prentiss about the fact that his wife hadn't responded to one of his voicemail or text messages.

Emily didn't buy his answer, but . . . she let it go.

Not that letting it go meant that she didn't still note he was distracted for the rest of their trip out. When they got on the plane he checked his phone one more time before they took off, and then again immediately after they landed.

And he always seemed slightly anxious before he put it away again, which was very unusual for him. Hotch was always calm and cool, totally unflappable.

At present he was definitely flapped.

Then even after they arrived at the station, he still wasn't quite himself. He would alternate between an intense focus on the details of the case they had arrived to assist with, but then she'd see him off by himself biting his lip as he made another call, or checked his messages again.

Given that all of his professional problems had collided into a single conference room in a Milwaukee police precinct, Emily was worried that there was something seriously wrong at home.

But she didn't ask him about it.

They had definitely reached a real understanding of one another in their professional relationship, but she knew that they were still a ways from being personal confidantes. And she didn't think he'd appreciate it if she flat out asked if he was having trouble with his wife.

Who knows though, maybe she was wrong. Maybe Hotch was just trying to get through to Gideon. Jason was still completely MIA, so it was possible.

Though as she watched him staring sightlessly at the table . . . she doubted it.

/////////

Emily was pleased when Hotch backed her play with Strauss at Joe Smith's home. They both knew she was the only way in that house. Though clearly, losing her gun, or more specifically, Morgan's gun, was not part of the plan, and she had probably never been happier to see Hotch and Derek kick in a door.

Of course she'd never been on that side of the door before so that was probably a big part of her joy.

And she was serious when she told Hotch that she was happy to be back. And given that someone like Strauss could only operate in the shadows, Emily was pretty sure that maybe now she and Hotch both really could stay. She hadn't considered it before that moment, but for people like them . . . there would always be one more case. They couldn't walk away. Emily had once wondered if this job would become a calling for her like it had for him. She knew now that day had come and gone.

And she was okay with that.

/////////

Even after the EMTs bandaged her up Hotch insisted she go to the hospital to get an x-ray. Or as he put it, "it was a 2x4 that connected with your skull Prentiss, not a grapefruit."

But then to her surprise, he decided to go with her.

In the past he generally sent one of the others along if somebody needed to get checked out more thoroughly. She thought that was sweet though that he was going with her himself this time. Though she imagined he would feel pretty guilty if she was badly hurt after he sent her into the house.

Not that she'd ever blame him of course, but she knew that's how he'd see it.

She gave him a little smile of thanks as he climbed into the ambulance next to her. Fortunately though, he didn't see it. Because as soon as she did it Emily realized that Hotch would probably assume that she was trying to manipulate him out of going to the hospital. Then he would have had to break out a scowl as he again pointed out the need for her to get checked.

Though she wasn't a fan of the production involved in actually _going_ to the hospital, Emily was not opposed to the x-ray in principle, and she didn't want him to think she was being stupid about her health. She wasn't personally a fan of subdural hematomas and was happy to get confirmation she didn't have one.

However, she did balk when they pulled into the ambulance bay and one of the staff tried to put her in a wheelchair.

She shook her head firmly as she looked down at the orderly from the bench, "thank you, but no, I can walk just fine."

The orderly was not pleased, "ma'am you have to ride in the wheelchair, it's policy, we're liable if something goes wrong."

Emily was grateful as once again Hotch backed her up, helping her down from the back of the ambulance and standing slightly in front of her when he could see she was a bit wobbly on her feet.

"We understand it's against policy sir, but Agent Prentiss can walk and we accept full responsibility for her well being," then he pulled out his badge, "now if we could please see a doctor? Thank you."

Hotch had been thankful she hadn't argued about going to the hospital, the least he could do was make sure that she got her way on this one minor point.

The orderly looked back and forth between them, then gave a curt nod as he turned and headed back inside. That's when Emily once again took note of the fact that Hotch was just one of those people whose orders were followed even by those not in his chain of command.

She was a bit envious of the power that she knew he exuded without even thinking about it.

As they started through the double doors, Emily shoved her hands into her pockets and murmured a quiet, "thanks." Hotch looked down at her, "don't mention it, now just don't make me regret it."

Emily nodded solemnly, "got it sir. No falling down and breaking my face."

He flicked his eyes over to hers, and for a second Emily thought that she saw a brief flash of amusement . . . but then it was gone.

Her eyes crinkled slightly . . . though Hotch was the first one to say that he had no sense of humor, Emily knew that wasn't completely true. It's just that generally he was wound up so tightly that he couldn't see the humor in anything. Sometimes though . . . if she made a little effort . . . she could get a small smile out of him.

And she knew today that effort was required. She needed to try to break the tension a bit.

When they arrived at the admitting desk Emily identified herself and the charge nurse came over immediately to collect her. The EMTs had radioed en route that an FBI Agent was coming in for treatment.

As the nurse put her arm out, Hotch looked down at Emily.

"Do you want me to wait here?"

He hadn't actually planned beyond just bringing her to the hospital.

She shrugged, "you can keep me company if you want. They're just checking my head so it shouldn't be anything embarrassing."

/////////

Five minutes later Emily was grinding her teeth at her own stupidity. She had forgotten about the standard list of admitting questions they asked when you arrived in an emergency room.

"When was your last period?"

That was a good one. And Emily just blew out a puff of air as she answered it. That was about the point where she started thinking that maybe it would have been better if she'd left Hotch in the lobby.

A few routine medical history ones and then they got to the last question and the nurse looked accusingly at Hotch before she looked at Emily's bloody bandage.

"Is anyone hurting you at home?"

Insulted at the clear insinuation, Hotch was appalled as he looked back at the woman. "I'm her boss!" he pulled out his ID, "and she was injured in the FIELD!"

Good Christ! Yes, this was kind of his fault . . . he was the one that convinced Prentiss to come back . . . but he didn't smack the woman himself!

The nurse looked down at his credentials, "sorry sir, it's just that we see a lot of batterers bringing in their domestic partners. Just last week there was a couple who both worked in law enforcement. They both came into the ER, in uniform, and it turned out he was the one that broke her arm."

Knowing from the unhealthy red pallor of his skin that Hotch was about to go apoplectic, Emily quickly interceded, "we understand that, and I thank you for your concern but this is a work injury," she tipped her head towards Hotch, "he saved my life."

And this would be the thanks he gets. Unjust domestic battery accusations!

The nurse gave them a small smile, "okay then," she nodded her head at Hotch, "and I am sorry sir." She made a note in Emily's chart before adding, "the orderly will be in to take you down to x-ray in a moment."

And then she left them behind the curtain.

They were both silent for a moment before Emily snapped her jaw, "well."

"Yeah."

"Sorry about that Hotch."

Hotch immediately shot back sarcastically, "oh what's a little domestic battery accusation when I had the privilege of learning the specific details of your cycle?"

Emily pursed her lips, "yes, it's been a fun day for me too sir."

He rubbed his hand across his mouth as he sighed, "I know."

Then . . . feeling a stab of guilt for snapping at her . . . he added quietly, "how's your head?"

She quirked up her lip as she shot him a look.

"My head feels like somebody bashed it in with a 2x4," she stated ironically.

His eyes widened in concern and he was instantly on his feet.

"Do you want me to go get the doctor?" He asked worriedly.

That's all he needed for his conscience. She quits, he drags her back into the field, and he kills her. Yeah, that wouldn't keep him up nights!

Seeing how worried he looked, Emily tried to give Hotch a little smile of reassurance. But unfortunately the swivel motion of turning to look at him just made it come out more as a wince.

"No," she bit her lip, "it's okay. We're already at the head of the line, they'll do the x-ray, hopefully confirm that my head is indeed as hard as you think it is, I'll get some nice drugs and we can go home."

Emily saw a funny look come across Hotch's face when she mentioned home, but he shook it off as the orderly . . . the same one from outside . . . arrived with a wheelchair to bring her to Radiology. He took one look at the two of them, recognized them from earlier, and his polite smiled turned to a look of desperation.

"Ma'am, _please_ . . ."

Emily cut him off with an, "it's okay" as Hotch helped her down from the exam table, "I'll get in."

Her head was now killing her and she wasn't sure if she had the energy to make a trip down to God knows where and stand around for God knows how long. The pain was almost tolerable if she just remained completely still, but sudden movements were making her slightly nauseous.

Hotch could see the pinching of her brow and how she kept biting the inside of her cheek. She had to be hurting, but she didn't say anything.

He was proud of her.

Not that he would have thought any less of her if she'd admitted it but, if he'd learned anything today it was that Prentiss was made of much stronger stuff than he had realized before.

This was just one more example of it.

They headed down to Radiology in a comfortable silence. And then Hotch paced the hallway while she had her x-rays, debating whether he should try Haley again but he decided he was being pathetic.

It's not like he was worried that she hadn't called back because something had happened. No, he was worried that she hadn't called back because she was still angry. And she'd never stayed _this_ angry for _this _long. But as soon as they were done here, they'd be flying home so he might as well save the last scrap of his dignity and put this aside for now.

He'd deal with things when he got back.

In the meantime . . . he looked up as Prentiss was wheeled back out of x-ray . . . he had more tangible concerns to distract him. So again . . . knowing it was against policy . . . Hotch told their orderly, (it turned out his name was Ron), that he could push her back to the E.R himself.

Ron didn't even put up a fight this time, he just shook his head and walked away. Hotch almost felt sorry for him, but then he remembered that this was one of the few perks of his dour personality. And really, he just wanted a few minutes with Prentiss without an audience.

So once they were alone he mentioned that that it might be best if she stay overnight and fly back tomorrow or perhaps even the day after.

That didn't go over very well.

She spun her head around so fast that he thought she was going to throw up. And then she winced as she told him that she most particularly did not wish to get "left behind."

He responded patiently, "I understand that Prentiss, but I don't think it's the best idea for you to be flying right away. The pressure from the altitude alone is going to exacerbate any pain you're in, and," he gave her a pointed look, "it's clear that you're in quite a bit of pain already."

Hotch could tell from the set of her jaw that she wasn't pleased with him . . . or the point that he had just made.

But Prentiss was nothing if not persistent about getting her own way. And as they rolled back into examination, he saw her take a breath.

"How about we ask the doctor? If he says it's a bad idea then I'll stay behind without another word of complaint. But if he says it's okay then you let me get on the plane and go home with everyone else."

Hotch looked hard at her for a moment . . . her proposal was logical.

"Agreed," he shot her a look, "_however_, even if he says it's okay to fly you have to promise to say something immediately if you start to feel the least bit out of sorts." He rolled his eyes, "I don't want you stroking out at 40,000 feet."

Emily's lips twitched, "I don't want me stroking out at 40,000 feet either sir, so yes, agreed. I will definitely tell you if it feels like I'm about to burst a vessel."

He narrowed his eyes at her but fortunately at that moment the doctor entered with her films. Emily immediately pounced on him.

"Doctor, can I fly tonight?"

Hotch responded drolly, "how about we find out if your head is broken first, then we'll discuss your travel plans?" Slightly chastened Emily cringed slightly as she looked over at him, "oh, right."

Ignoring both of their comments, the doctor put the films on the screen.

"Okay," he squinted as he looked them over, "no cracks, no hematomas."

He walked over to Emily, and after checking her eyes and field dressing, started doing a series of coordination exercises, starting with 'follow my finger' and ending with walking in a straight line across the room.

Before she started the last one Hotch interjected, "she can barely do that on her best day doctor."

Though she was trying to get all this done as quickly as possible, Emily still took the time to scowl at Hotch as she easily completed the last test and returned to sit on the tool next to her boss.

The doctor folded his arms across his chest as he looked over at them, "she's okay," he tipped his head slightly, "there will be a lump though and a major headache. All I can prescribe for those are rest, ice and Tylenol."

Seeing Emily's sulk he explained further, "I don't like to give narcotics unless they're absolutely necessary and you should be feeling better by tomorrow."

Then he gave Emily a cup of water and a few sample packets of extra strength Tylenol. Though she was a little disappointed about the lack of good drugs, Tylenol was better than nothing.

She washed down one packet immediately and as the doctor took her paper cup back from her, he looked between the two of them, "any more questions?"

Emily nodded enthusiastically, and then regretted it as she put a hand up to her forehead, "can I fly?" Hotch interjected, "you should know doctor," he shot her a look, "we're planning on leaving for the airport directly from here and I wasn't sure if it would be safe for her to fly so _quickly_ after her injury."

Nice try Prentiss.

Emily tried not to glare at her boss . . . she was hoping the vague _'can I fly'_ question would result in an immediate 'of course.' But then Hotch had to be all 'Mr. Clarification' on the fact that they were flying out immediately.

Ignoring the daggers Prentiss was shooting at him . . . she was actually shooting them at the floor, but Hotch knew that they were for him . . . he waited patiently for the doctor to answer.

"Yes," the doctor nodded, "she'll be fine."

At the look of triumph Emily shot Hotch, the doctor then gently scolded her, "though ma'am you are fortunate your husband was so concerned about your health," he tore off a sheet from her chart, "just give this discharge form to the nurse at the desk, and you folks have a nice flight home."

What the . . . Hotch raised his eyebrow as he stared at the open doorway the doctor had just exited through. Then he heard Prentiss snort beside him.

He narrowed his eyebrows as he huffed, "it's not funny Prentiss."

She giggled, "oh come on sir, it's a little bit funny. You were upgraded from abusive batterer to loving spouse in a little over an hour. That's like a record."

Hotch turned his head to properly glare at her. But even with the eye contact it didn't seem to have the usual effect.

When did she become immune? That took almost two years with Derek.

Emily had come to know the difference between Hotch's 'genuinely angry' glares and his 'just annoyed' glares, and right now, he wasn't really mad so she knew he wasn't going to yell at her for laughing at him.

A conclusion confirmed when he rolled his eyes and tipped his head towards the door.

"Let's just get out of here."

She bit her lip as she smiled at him, "yes sir."

As they walked down to the nurses' station Emily made a point of looking down at her discharge sheet as she said quietly, "thanks for saving my life Hotch."

His expression softened as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Anytime Prentiss . . . anytime."

Hotch had told Morgan he needed to talk to Haley before he made a final decision but, he knew then.

He was staying.

* * *

_A/N 2: Given the massive blow to her head, I personally would have made Emily go to the hospital, so I felt Hotch would have made her go too. And the scene with the domestic battery question, actually happened to me! I had a married male friend (platonic!) who very kindly escorted me to the emergency room and got some very dirty looks from the nurse as she asked me "is anyone hurting you at home." I think it was awareness week or something. Which is great that they do that, but at the time, it was very unfortunate. Especially because we didn't have badges to pull out and I hadn't just been apprehending a serial killer. _

_As I said, I did two chapters for this episode, the next one is a post ep for when they get home, and that's what you'll see tomorrow._

_Next: __**"A Rainbow of Reasons"**_


	23. A Rainbow of Reasons

**Author's Note:** Second part, post ep, picks up a few minutes after we see Hotch and Emily arriving back at their respective homes.

* * *

_Episode – In Birth and Death_

**A Rainbow of Reasons**

Hotch found the envelope taped to the mirror in the master bathroom. After he pulled it down, he slowly crossed back out to their bedroom and sat down on the bedspread.

For a moment he traced his finger over the crisp black lines of his name written in his wife's handwriting.

Right now she was still his wife. Right now they just, _"had some problems," _and right now he knew that they would get past them.

And he knew that they would get past them because they always had before.

But in a moment . . . all of these things that he knows to be true . . . they could fall to pieces like so much shattered crystal.

He took a deep breath and then he tore open the flap and slid out the single sheet of paper folded neatly inside.

'_Aaron,_

_We're at my sister's. I'm sorry to leave while you were away but, well . . . I knew that you would have come home and apologized, and you would have sworn again that things would be different. _

_And I would have believed you for one more day. _

_But then tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, you would have kissed me goodbye in the morning and said "see you tonight," but six would have turned to seven and you would have remembered to call me at eight to tell me that you wouldn't be home for dinner. And I would have said "okay, I love you" as I hung up the phone and looked over at the evening meal I had prepared for us. Then I would have made a plate for you and placed it in the refrigerator. And then I would have checked the windows, locked the doors, and went up to bed alone. _

_That's been our life Aaron, that's been our life for the past five years. And I can't do that anymore. I won't do that anymore. I think I still love you, but I don't want to live with Jack second and me third, both of us always ranking behind your job. And I understand now that you can't change that, even for us. I know you tried. I did too. But the fact that I'm not sure if I'm still in love with you, well, that alone says more than any other explanation I could give on why I had to leave. _

_If it's not too late, please call when you get home. We can make arrangements for you to see Jack. I'll never keep him from you, I can promise you that._

_Haley'_

Hotch put the letter down on the bedspread next to him. His eyes traced over the words again before he checked his watch.

_'Only 9:30, that's not too late to call, right?' _

Knowing that Haley always kept her cell phone in her purse, Hotch he figured he would have better luck calling the house. So he pulled out his own phone and started scrolling down the list of contacts.

It wasn't there.

How could he not have his sister-in-law in his cell phone? That's immediate family. He had Forensic Accounting, Media Relations, not one, not two, but three, different restaurants that deliver to the FBI Academy all programmed, but he doesn't have his wife's sister's phone number.

His eyes tracked over to one line of the note . . _. that alone says more than any other explanation . . ._

Hotch slowly huffed out a puff of air . . . he didn't know if he could fix this.

He didn't know if he even knew how to try.

Putting aside the cell phone for a moment, Hotch lay back on the bed, his mind running through all of the events of the past twenty four hours.

_. . . Jack eating his macaroni & cheese_

_. . . Strauss stepping on the hair of a dead woman_

_. . . Haley storming out_

_. . . Prentiss' face covered in blood_

Prentiss . . .

Hotch picked up his phone again and hit number four on the speed dial.

The irony did not escape him that a woman whom he didn't even call by her first name was programmed on speed dial, while his wife's sister didn't even make the list.

That fact continued to mock him as he listened to the phone ring in his ear.

///////

Emily had come home exhausted with the massive headache that she had known was coming.

A crack to the skull with a 2x4 tended to do that to you.

And of course Hotch had been correct about the altitude adjustments. Though she hadn't told him that . . . he'd been hovering enough and she just wanted to get home without him requesting an emergency landing in the middle of Poughkeepsie.

So she'd bit her lip and suffered through the landing, brushing off his concern about her driving home alone. And she made it, she made it just fine.

Now she really wanted to take a hot bath, but that just smacked of effort.

And she didn't have the energy for effort.

But she knew that she needed to eat so her next dose of Tylenol wouldn't make her sick. So she heated up a frozen dinner, scarfed down half of it, dumped the rest in the trash . . . it tasted lousy . . . and popped the precious pain pills.

And then she checked her locks one more time, took a breath and dragged herself up the stairs.

//////

Emily had just changed into her pajamas when her phone started buzzing from across the room.

Her brow wrinkled as she stood there for a second trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

Where the hell had she put it?

Then it came back to her . . . it had fallen out of her pocket when she was getting undressed. It had ended up bouncing somewhere under the dresser. She was planning on digging it out in the morning.

But apparently . . . she dropped to her knees and started blinding reaching around under the dresser . . . there was no time like the present!

Ah ha!

Her fingers grasped the vibrating device on what she was sure was the last ring, so she just answered without stopping to check the caller ID.

"Prentiss," she huffed out wearily.

"It's me."

Emily was still kneeling on the carpet as her boss's voice floated through the line.

She leaned back as she asked in surprise, "Hotch?" Then she checked the time on her alarm clock.

"Do we have a case? You know I still don't have my badge and gun back yet but I could . . ."

He cut her off.

"No Prentiss, no case. I just wanted to check and make sure you were feeling all right. I know the doctor said it was okay, but I still didn't like the idea of you flying so shortly after taking a hit like that."

Only Prentiss would try to get immediately back into the field after suffering a major on the job injury.

Emily huffed slightly at his statement . . . she was of course well aware of Hotch's feelings on the topic of her flying. After all, they'd had an argument about it at the hospital.

But she knew that he was just looking out for her . . . a soft smile touched her lips . . . he was like a mother hen with her chicks.

"I'm fine Hotch. I have a headache," she tipped her head slightly, "a bad headache to be honest, but it's just a pounding where I got hit so I'm not worried about it. I took some Tylenol."

Frowning slightly, Hotch switched the phone to his other ear before he responded, "okay, well if it gets worse, call me and I'll meet you at the hospital."

Emily's eyes crinkled as she pushed herself off the floor. "Yes sir," then she took note of the tone of his voice and she sobered, "Hotch, you sound a little funny. Is everything okay?"

There was a pause and for a second Emily wasn't sure he was going to answer. Then she heard him sigh.

"Haley left," he whispered, "she took Jack and she left."

Hotch had no idea why he had just told her that. He didn't like to talk about his personal life. His eyes started to sting . . . maybe he just needed to say it out loud to someone.

Maybe that was the only way to make it real.

At Hotch's announcement, Emily's eyes popped . . . whoa! She knew that they'd had problems . . . she'd been stuck in the car with Hotch a few times when they'd started arguing on the phone. And Emily had concluded from Hotch's behavior on the flight out that they were perhaps having more difficulties than usual.

But still, leaving, that's . . . huge.

And there was silence as Emily considered the implications of this development. And then she just said.

"Oh . . ."

Even though it had passed her lips as barely more than a whisper, the syllable hung in the air. And then she just stopped.

There was nothing else to say.

She figured as honestly as she meant them, all of the platitudes would have sounded trite and clichéd.

Hotch didn't acknowledge Prentiss's response. And he opted not to expand on his prior statement.

There was nothing else to say.

He just closed his eyes and listened to Prentiss breathe. And the sound comforted him until he realized that he was using her as a substitute for his wife. He was lonely . . . he bit his lip . . . and he was alone.

But that wasn't fair to his agent. It wasn't fair.

And it was wrong.

His eyes slowly opened . . . he was staring up at his bedroom ceiling. Then he cleared his throat.

"I'll see you in the morning Prentiss. Come see me first thing, I'll have your hardware. Good night."

Emily barely was able to utter, "wait" before the phone clicked in her ear. She looked down at it sadly before whispering, "good night sir."

Pushing herself up off the carpet, she climbed into bed, set her alarm, fluffed her pillow and then closed her eyes. She sighed as she rolled over.

_'Poor Hotch.'_

_

* * *

__A/N 2: Yeah, I decided to let Emily find out before Morgan. If you aren't aware, he is the one that finds out first onscreen. I wrote this chapter when I first started the story, and originally it was all I was going to do for the episode, but obviously, plans changed. I did tweak it a smidge after I wrote the other chapter but oddly, this is pretty much verbatim what I came up with on the first draft. And that's almost unheard of, yet, I personally thought it came out pretty well. I was going for Broken Hotch, that's why I'd added in the bit in the other chapter about trying to get through to her and her not calling him back. The way he busted into the house immediately calling Haley's name, I saw that as the last little part of him that thought, maybe things weren't quite as bad as he'd thought. But then the reality of it would have hit him. He had made his choice and in turn, Haley made hers._

_And for the note, again I tried to see it from Haley's point of view. Why she would have left WHILE he was gone. Which is usually the big sticking point on whether people like her or not, HOW she left. Though I disagree with handling it like that, I can see how somebody would just get to the end of her rope and just say enough. But also knowing that after twenty years, she wouldn't have had the courage to leave if he was there, because he's her husband and they've built this life together and she wants so badly to believe him when he says that he'll figure out a way to balance things better. All the while realizing now that he is what he is and if she stayed it was just prolonging the inevitable and making herself miserable in the process. I don't agree with it, but, I can see it. I didn't see it as a malicious act, intending to hurt him, it was more desperation that she felt this was the only option left to her. Also, I hit on that in The Hours, that Haley wasn't proud of everything she'd done when she reached that point. I'm planning to explore this more in a chapter I'm doing closer to their actual divorce. Denaliyasha gave me a good idea for a hook there :) And Arcadya and I had some earlier discussions on the Hotchner marriage when I was writing The Hours so I would be 'remiss' if I didn't say that helped me craft this chapter as well._

_Please let me know what you think :)_

_Next: __**"Our Tribe"**_


	24. Our Tribe

**Author's Note:** I'm back. This is a better version than it was a few days ago. It's a missing scene, and nothing in the actual end scene with Hotch & Derek talking on the plane, contradicts what I put in here. They were on the plane for like 6 hrs, lots of stuff can happen :)

And TFM, this one is dedicated to you! I'm sure you'll spot the prompt you gave me! For everyone else, I'll explain what it was at the end.

* * *

_Episode – __Scared to Death_

**Our Tribe**

Hotch traversed the streets of Portland as quickly as he dared given the heavy traffic. After getting held up back at the station, he'd told the team to go on ahead and he'd catch up with them on the plane.

That was almost two hours ago and he knew they'd be getting antsy.

It figured he'd end up going back on the road almost immediately after his wife left him . . . in large part . . . because he traveled so much.

Hotch hoped whoever invented the concept of irony had put a patent on it.

He sighed . . . traveling so soon actually might have been for the best though. When he'd gone over to see Jack, Haley had told him she wanted some, "time to think," and Hotch knew if he was home he would have just been obsessing about what that meant. Basically if, "time to think" was really code for, "time to change the locks." At least with a case he'd been able to keep himself occupied. On the road it was like things were normal.

Which was . . . he rolled his eyes . . . probably another part of the problem.

Most people, certainly not those with young families, didn't feel more comfortable living half of their lives out of a duffel bag than back in their own homes. He'd just been so obsessed before about finding ways to be the perfect husband and father when he _was_ home, that he hadn't given much thought to all of these other things going on when he _wasn't_ home. Like what she'd said in her note, he'd never really considered before as to how Haley actually FELT when he forgot to call to say he'd be late.

His only concern had been whether or not she was angry. But he hadn't understood the whole litany of other emotions she would have started to feel when that became a regular occurrence.

Disappointed . . . unappreciated . . . lonely.

It's just that his professional life required so much analysis and introspection, that he tended to take for granted that his personal life . . . with its absence of psychopaths, sociopaths and general deviants . . . would somehow be more simple. If he thought his wife was angry with him, he would apologize and buy her flowers on the way home.

But she'd never once told him that 'angry' was code for hurt.

And contrary to popular belief, being a profiler doesn't make you a mind reader. He snorted . . . and it sure as hell didn't give you any secret advantages in relationships with the opposite sex. Women still had to tell you when they were unhappy, and they had to tell you WHY they were unhappy. Because Haley simply repeating "_Aaron, you're never home,_" well, that turned out not to have been the most helpful means of translating the sheer MAGNITUDE of the situation!

But the more he thought about it now . . . applying the same scrutiny to his home life that he did to his work . . . the more he realized, his marriage really did have a LOT of problems. And not one of them had he thought up a viable solution for yet, not that he even knew if Haley was still interested in finding solutions.

She might just be off right now calling divorce attorneys and dividing up their DVD collection.

Ergh! He was going to drive himself crazy thinking about this! He could obsess when he got home, for now he should just try and put it out of his head.

He rolled his eyes as he hit the directional and pulled into the airport.

_'Fat chance.'_

////////

As he walked out of the bathroom, Spencer was immediately assailed by Emily yelling from the other end of the plane.

"Hey Reid, what's your greatest fear? What are you most afraid of?"

Stopping short in the middle of the aisle, Reid looked back at her blankly, "descending into madness and dying alone, unloved and unwanted in a state institution."

For a moment there was an understandably awkward silence, and then Emily . . . cringing . . . shrugged her shoulders slightly, "you got anything _lighter_?"

Reid, eyes dropped to the floor as he started to chew his lip.

"Lighter, lighter, um, oh, then that's easy, fish."

And with a definitive nod he came over to reclaim his seat next to her. Derek looked at him incredulously from across the table, "you're afraid of fish!"

JJ raised an eyebrow as she poked her head out from her chair to look back at the rest of the team. Paltry little group that it was given that Gideon was gone and they were still waiting on Hotch. With the exception of answering Emily's question a few moments earlier, JJ was pretty much keeping to herself. She was tired and didn't feel like being sociable.

But still, Spence's responses had caught her ear. She shook her head as she turned back to her book.

The things that came out of his mouth never ceased to amaze her.

Reid started playing his pen impatiently as he looked back at Derek, "yes."

"You're not a _worm_ man."

With an annoyed huff, Reid looked over at Morgan.

"Emily didn't ask me for a _rational_ fear DEREK, she asked me for my _greatest_ fear. That's fish."

Rolling her eyes at the boys, Emily turned her attentions to Hotch who had just walked onto the jet.

"Hey Hotch," she called out, "what's your greatest fear?" Then she quickly added, "and don't pick 'descending into madness and dying alone unloved and unwanted in a state institution,'" she gave him a pointed look, "Reid already got that one."

Emily knew Hotch was upset not only about Gideon . . . which was affecting everybody's mood . . . but also he had the added stress of his situation at home. She'd started this little game simply as an effort to cheer _everybody_ up. But she was actually hoping if she could engage Hotch in some mindless conversation she might get a smile out of him.

He hadn't cracked one all week.

As he put his bag away, Hotch's lips twitched slightly as he understood from Prentiss' clarification that the point of the question was not a baring of the soul, but simply group decompression after a depressing couple of weeks.

So trying to get into the spirit of things he thought for a moment, wrinkling his brow before responding succinctly.

"Needles,"

And then he went over to take the single seat on the aisle opposite the three of them.

It was a cross country flight so he knew at some point they'd all go lie down and then he'd spread out his work on the table. It didn't matter if he consciously tried to put the state of his marriage out his mind, either way he knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

Starting to get excited, Reid leaned forward across the aisle, "Hotch, you know there's an evolutionary basis for a fear of needles! Your ancestors would have related the avoidance of stab wounds as increasing their chances for survival."

As he clicked his seatbelt Hotch responded drolly, "thank you Reid, I tend to hold that theory of self preservation holds true in modern times as well."

God knows he loved the kid . . . and he was a certified genius . . . but sometimes Hotch wasn't entirely sure that Reid processed the words before the words actually left his mouth.

Leaning back to chew on his pen, Reid stared pensively at the ceiling, "yes, I suppose that's true. Fascinating."

Derek rolled his eyes, "yeah Reid, both Hotch and his great, great, great, great grandfather didn't want to get shanked. Call Ripleys."

Ignoring their bickering . . . as he usually did unless it was distracting them from the case . . . Hotch thought for a second. Given the disparate personalities on the team, this could prove to be an interesting discussion.

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow as he looked back over to Prentiss.

"Any commonalities?"

In response to Hotch's question, Emily shook her head slowly back and forth, "nope. Reid has fish, JJ sharks, Morgan, spiders, you," she gestured, "needles and I really, really, _really_ don't like snakes."

Emily pursed his lips for a moment as she thought back over what they'd just learned. Then she turned to Spencer.

"You know Reid, not to pile on, but you do understand that all the rest of us have a fear of something that actually can cause us _bodily harm._ You're afraid of something that we fry up and eat with tater tots."

Morgan barked a laugh and Hotch's jaw quivered as he saw the look of righteous indignation flash on Spencer's face.

"That's VERY nice Emily!" Reid sputtered indignantly, "I would expect a comment like that from Morgan but not you."

Patting his hand she said contritely, "I'm sorry Spencer, unlike _some_ people," she gave Derek a dirty look, "I wasn't TRYING to be mean. It's just that I was wondering if there was a particular instance that 'harkens' back to this fear of fish." She raised a quizzical eyebrow, "some childhood debacle in a guppy pool perhaps?"

With his lips pressed in a hard line, Reid stared at her for a moment before he decided she was being sincere with her inquiry. He gave a resigned sigh, "no Emily, nothing that I'm aware of, I'm just afraid of fish." Reid squinted as he thought back for a moment, "although . . . I do recall one instance where my mother left me alone for the afternoon and the babysitter was watching a movie about some camp children that got attacked and eaten alive," he tapped his pen against the table, "now what was it called?"

His eyes lit up, "oh wait! Piranha!" He sat back, "oh . . . wait, piranha. Huh."

Hotch and Emily caught each other's eyes across the aisle, both quickly biting their lips as they put their heads down. Derek made no such effort to protect Reid's pride, he just rolled his eyes.

"And _there_ you go."

Reid scowled at him but was cut off from any response by Tom's announcement they'd been cleared for departure. Derek and Reid clicked their seatbelts and Emily leaned back, rolling her neck. Thankful that whatever Reid's retort was going to be, he had decided to let it go once his momentum was broken.

They were all a bit on edge and she was glad that he was making an effort to not let his usually playful sniping with Derek escalate into an actual fight.

They were all quiet as the plane made its turn down to their departure runway and rapidly accelerated from a near standstill to actual flight. As much as she flew, Emily still marveled at that first moment of weightlessness as you left the ground. She understood the mechanics of it, but it still was a wondrous feeling of freedom.

She also knew that takeoffs and landings were the two most dangerous portions of the flight, but tended to ignore that fact to focus on the pleasantries of the ascent. After all she wasn't flying the plane so no use concerning herself with matters she had no control over. Unless the weather was bad, that was a whole other ball of wax. But today they had clear skies all around them.

As they began to level off, the announcement came that they could undo their seatbelts and Morgan made a beeline for the galley. The first day in Portland he'd discovered a deli by the precinct and he'd then eaten every subsequent meal there that was feasible. As he got up he boasted to Emily and Reid about the turkey sandwich he'd bought for the flight home, giving them both a look as he said he wasn't sharing. Reid ignored him, and Emily rolled her eyes as he walked away.

Looking over her shoulder, Emily made sure he'd crossed behind the partition, and then she glanced over to see Hotch fully immersed in his paperwork. She figured she had the privacy now to say what she'd wanted to a little earlier.

Leaning over she said quietly to Reid, "you know we wouldn't let that happen." Turning from his book, he looked over at her puzzled. She smiled softly. "if the worst happened," she gave him a knowing look, "we'd never leave you all alone. I promise. You don't have to be afraid of that."

Reid blushed slightly as he realized what she was referring to, and then he looked down for a moment. Taking a deep breath he looked back up at her with a shy smile, whispering, "thanks Emily."

Then he turned back to his book, feeling a little lighter of heart than he had before.

Gideon might have abandoned him, but, he still had his family. And Emily had stuck by him when he'd so awful to her after . . . well, after. If she didn't abandon him then, he knew she really meant what she'd just said.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he started rapidly flipping his pages.

Squeezing his arm lightly, Emily then sat back, catching Hotch's eyes as she did so. And that's when she realized that he'd been listening after all.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hotch's face softened as he gave her a little smile before turning back to his files. That wasn't how she'd intended to get the smile out of him, but . . . her own mouth quirked up . . . she'd take it.

Hotch hadn't meant to eavesdrop but it was so quiet he couldn't help it. She was really good with him, and with Gideon gone now, Hotch appreciated that fact more than he may have before. Morgan was like his big brother, but Prentiss, she mothered him, but in a good way, and with Reid's only other parental figure on the team gone now, Hotch knew he'd be leaning on her. She protected him when she thought Morgan was being too hard on him.

It was tough love, but Reid was sensitive and sometimes Derek forgot that fact.

That was part of the reason Hotch didn't intercede with their fighting unless it was affecting their work, he'd noticed Prentiss would put a stop to things before they got out of hand. And generally in a kinder tone than Gideon ever had. Hotch loved Jason, and wished him well, but there were a few things he wouldn't miss. The regular need for an exchange of apologies was one of them.

He sighed, also though, now that Gideon was gone, Hotch had a feeling that he himself would also be leaning on Prentiss a lot more this year than he had before. She and Morgan both. They were older than the others, and more forthright in their opinions. And he was self aware enough to know that this thing with Haley was going to be a distraction, so he'd be relying on them to help him stay on task by keeping the team cohesive. He just hoped he wouldn't be asking too much of them.

Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Hotch looked up, watching as Morgan came down the aisle with his beloved sandwich cut in half. He dropped one piece on a napkin in front of Reid, "here boy, eat something, you're too skinny," then, after plopping back down back in his seat he pulled on his headphones before he started eating the other, slightly smaller piece he'd cut for himself.

Just like Emily, Derek too had been bothered by what Reid had said earlier, the kid shouldn't worry about things like that. He should know better than to think they'd leave him alone. Derek really wanted five minutes with Gideon just to find out if he understood, truly understood, what leaving like that had done to the boy he had mentored for years. Morgan shook his head slightly to get rid of thoughts of Jason Gideon so he could focus in on the bite he had just taken. He chewed slowly.

Oh yeah! Now that's a DAMN fine turkey sandwich!

A ghost of a smile passed Hotch's lips as he caught the look on Emily's face as she stared at Derek. Her eyes were slightly moist. Morgan was oblivious to her gaze, but Hotch could see . . . she was proud of him.

He was too.

Reid's lip quirked up in delight as he looked down at the unexpected snack Morgan had just given him. He turned to offer Emily half, but she just smiled and shook her head. Then she turned to look out her window at the setting sun. Biting his lip, Hotch turned away from them, switching his gaze to his own window as he too watched the light fading around them.

_'Yeah, they would be okay.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: I hadn't decided on an underlying arc for the season three chapters, which, I realized is what had been bugging me about what I had written a few days ago. Because it's easy enough to just write a stand alone post ep for each episode, but if they don't have any threads connecting the chapters then they seem flat to me. But I tweaked a few things here, and going into the next couple chapters, so it'll be clear that, in addition to the basic continuation of the H/P bonding (title of the story and all), we'll be focusing on Hotch's feelings about the disintegration of his family. Hotch is a little bit 'lost in translation' for most of that season so I'm going to let it be clear that 'the team' is more important than ever. Therefore, I'm trying to pull the group in a little more, or at least have them referenced a bit more._

_Also, the prompt from TFM was "FISH." I truly built the whole chapter around a conversation involving Reid being afraid of fish. I wrote that part of it like a day after she gave me the word. And if you're thinking with his memory he would have remembered the why, don't forget, his perfect recall is for his stuff he READS, not just general knowledge he absorbs. So you see, that's why prompts are great! A totally random noun gave me almost 3000 words. _

_Lastly, what Reid said about the theory behind why people are afraid of needles, that's actually a REAL theory about the origins of trypanophobia. A leftover strand in the code that still remembers the need for self preservation back when carrying pointy objects was starting to become all the rage. Yes, it's a really DUMB theory, because clearly that does hold true today, so you don't need to harken back to ancient times to find something to hang your hat on with that one! But I read it on some psych website and the ridiculous obviousness of it amused me so I decided to let that be Hotch's issue. As for the others, Emily's fear of snakes was first mentioned in The Hours when they went to the Reptile House at the zoo, Hotch also had an issue at the zoo but he wasn't bringing that up in mixed company. Derek is afraid of spiders simply because that's usually a 'girly thing' so I just very much liked the idea of big strapping Derek Morgan being afraid of something a zillionth his size, and JJ, I didn't want to give her dogs because that would be too much of a downer. So instead she just got to be the really practical one._

_Next: __**"A Matter of Perspective"**_


	25. A Matter of Perspective

**Author's Note:** This is a post ep for the home invasion episode that ends with Emily thinking about adopting that girl. If you'll recall, our dynamic duo had a slight differing of opinion on that idea. And I have my own spin on those events :)

* * *

_Episode – __Children of the Dark_

**A Matter of Perspective**

"Okay buddy, I love you."

After he'd clicked off his call with Jack, Hotch looked across the aisle to Prentiss.

She was sitting alone at the small table.

When Hotch was on the phone she and JJ had been talking, but then JJ had left her a few minutes earlier to go lie down on one of the benches. And now Prentiss was just staring out the window . . . seemingly lost in thought.

And figuring this was as good a time as any . . . thought there really wasn't any 'good' time . . . Hotch slipped his cell into his pocket. Then he bit back a sigh as he stood up and crossed the aisle to take the seat that JJ had vacated.

Emily flicked her eyes over to Hotch with a dismissive glance. Then she looked back again, giving him a hard look and a distant, "sir," before she turned to look out the window once more

Grrr . . . Hotch groaned internally . . . she was _really_ angry with him.

After his comment at the station about her remaining objective, she'd given him a look . . . and a tone . . . but he'd hoped that she would have gotten over it by now. He had been planning on speaking to her either way, but it would have nicer if she wasn't pissed off. With Strauss, Haley, Haley's sister and Haley's mother all grinding his gears, he had enough women upset with him at the moment.

He really wasn't trying to add to the list.

Emily was hoping that her stiff uninviting body language would clue Hotch into that fact that she REALLY didn't want to talk to him right now. Like flat out wanted nothing to do with him. She was still more than a little annoyed at his response to the idea of her adopting that girl. Given that he didn't understand what she was going through, he shouldn't have been so quick to shut her down.

To dismiss her ideas.

Hotch could see Emily grinding her teeth as her fingers dug into her arm.

Clearly she wanted him to leave . . . but he didn't want to leave. He wanted to talk. So he leaned back against the seat and crossed his arms across his chest. She wasn't the only one that could convey their point non-verbally.

He was staying whether she liked it or not.

As she shot Hotch another look, Emily realized that he was insisting on doing this right now.

_Damn it! Why did he always want to talk when she was mad at him?_

But of course given the hierarchical nature of their relationship . . . of the two of them . . . generally he was the one that got his way in these situations. So with a weary sigh, she tried to muster up some slightly less hostile body language than she had been demonstrating a moment earlier.

If they _were _going to do this now . . . which they obviously WERE . . . then there was no reason to try and pick a fight.

Hearing Emily sigh as she dropped her head, Hotch saw that as his opening.

He leaned forward.

"Prentiss, I was serious earlier when I said I needed to know that you could remain objective . . ."

And he immediately cut him off as she glared across the table.

"And _I_ was serious when I said I needed to know that I could remain human."

Hotch narrowed his eyebrows, "if I may finish." Emily tipped her head slightly as she mumbled, "sorry, sir."

Then she gave an internal eye roll at her snappish response . . . let's try a little harder with the non-hostility pact there Em.

Hoping that she wasn't going to make this an excruciating conversation, Hotch started again.

"Prentiss this has been an incredibly hard year for the team. Elle's . . . departure, Morgan's arrest, Reid's abduction, you and I both quitting, and then top it all off, Gideon disappearing without so much as a word to anyone," he paused, "that's a ridiculous sequence of events to process. And Elle and Gideon, though they left under very different circumstances, they both left for the same reason. They couldn't do this job anymore because they got too close," he stopped to make sure he had her complete attention. When she tipped her head slightly he continued, "I _can't_ have that happen with you."

He looked imploringly at her, "Prentiss, I NEED you. Period, end of sentence." Shaking his head he took a breath, "Gideon's gone, and Reid's better, but he's still struggling. That leaves me, you and Morgan to take point on these cases. If I have to worry that you're going to pick up every orphan we come across as a stray to take home, we can't function. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

God knows he wasn't trying to be an asshole about intruding on her personal life, but this was just NOT something that he could deal with right now!

Emily stared at him, feeling her countenance softening . . . she hadn't thought of it like that, she hadn't thought of how he would see her decision to take in Carrie as a further splintering of the team.

She bit her cheek . . . she hadn't been planning on discussing this with him, not with anyone really. JJ had approached her, but given what he was worrying about she figured it was the only way to alleviate his fears. Knowing what he was already dealing with she didn't want to add herself to his list of burdens.

Rubbing her hands together she looked down for a moment, trying to think of how to explain this to him.

As they sat in silence, Hotch wasn't sure what was going to come out of her mouth when she finally responded. She would either be resentful at him for putting this pressure on her, or understanding that at present the continued efficient and smooth functioning of the team had to be his top priority right now.

He saw Prentiss start to open her mouth and sent up a silent prayer for '_understanding'_ to be the order of the day.

When Emily spoke again her voice was very faint, "she asked me if there were any happy families."

That wasn't what Hotch was expecting, and it was the first he was hearing about this conversation. He tipped his head, "and what did you say?"

"I didn't know what to say. You know my mother and I have a, um . . . complicated relationship?" He gave an imperceptible nod so she continued, "well, Carrie had been fighting with her parents just before they were killed. She said she'd been awful to them." Looking up Emily gave him a grim smile, "I've said some pretty awful things to my mother Hotch."

He was starting to have an inkling why this girl had gotten to her more than the others.

"Prentiss, you know that all children do that. It's the nature of the relationship, testing boundaries, asserting independence."

Seeing her nodding her agreement, he softened his tone. "So why is this bothering you so much?"

She looked up at him, "Carrie said it was too late now to be a good daughter," she paused, "and sometimes I think that myself, that it's too late to fix things with my mother. God Hotch, I'm almost forty and she and I can barely get through a meal together, we've gone MONTHS without speaking." She looked over at him, "I don't have a spouse or children or siblings. I just have two roles in life, agent and daughter. Just a few weeks ago I almost threw away the first, and I'm an utter FAILURE at the second."

Looking down at the table she sighed, "I just thought I could help this girl. Give her another chance," she shook her head dismissively, "not that I'd have been her mom really but, well, you know what I mean. And selfishly, I thought maybe if I could have the experience of being a parent, it might help me be a better daughter."

Her eyes were moist when she looked up, "because I don't want to stand over my mother's grave some day and think it's late too be a good daughter," she looked at him sadly, "I don't want to be Carrie."

Hotch finally understood. She had felt compassion for the other children she'd encountered who had been orphaned by tragedy, but this was the first time she'd been able to _relate_ to the child. Really, he never would have considered that as a reason for her decision to take Carrie home.

He rubbed his hands together.

"Prentiss, I can tell you as a parent that in some ways it does help you appreciate what your parents went through with you, but I haven't found that knowledge has necessarily made me a better son, or in your case daughter. Your issues with your parents are always going to be your issues. Having a child won't change them. And I'm certainly not trying to tell you how to live your life, all I'm saying is, if you're thinking about having children, come to me first."

As he watched Prentiss slowly arching her eyebrow, Hotch realized what he'd just said.

_That's good Aaron, borderline sexual harassment right there. _

Feeling his face getting warm, he tried to smooth over his unintentional innuendo.

"Uh, that didn't come out right. I just meant that if, uh, you're going through something right now and it would be _easier_ if I rotated you off the interviews with children, then just let me know. Reid and JJ can step in for the time being if it helps you."

Emily's mouth began to quiver as she saw Hotch blush . . . that was another one for the Precious Memories book. She could see he was trying to be nice.

Though . . . she noted with some amusement . . . it was 'nice' in a slightly self serving fashion.

Either way she thought she'd cut him some slack.

"Hotch I promise you I am not going to begin, as you so sensitively put it, 'picking up strays.' This was an unusual situation. I don't have baby fever, Carrie just struck a nerve."

Having regained his composure Hotch raised his eyebrow, "you're sure?"

Nodding she gave him a little smile, "yeah, I'm sure." Tipping his head, he sighed in relief as he started to slide out to go back to his own seat. That went much better than he thought it would.

Emily decided to add one more thing before Hotch left, "and sir, I'd just like to say, that shade of pink you just turned," she quirked up her lip, "_very_ attractive."

Hotch shot a warning look across the table.

"Prentiss . . ."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, "oh I'm sorry sir, given that you just _propositioned _me a moment ago I thought we were going for a whole," she scrunched up her face, "after hours, Profilers Gone Wild thing."

Seeing Hotch's eyes fall shut as he dropped his head to his chest, Emily smiled . . . she did love busting his chops.

"No? Oh, sorry, my mistake."

She reached over to pick up her blanket of the seat next to her, her eyes twinkling as she started to cover up.

"Good night sir."

His eyes shot back up as Hotch ground out a pained, "good night Prentiss," then he crossed back over to his own seat.

When he sat down he glanced back over to see her wink at him before she closed her eyes.

Shaking his head in amazement, Hotch started packing up his files.

'_If he ever burst an aneurysm he had no doubt Emily Prentiss was going to be in the room at the time.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: People generally take away from that episode that Emily was thinking about having kids, but then TPTB never touched on that idea again. Now they do have some issues in occasionally dropping the continuity ball, but in this instance, because they never brought it up again I felt I could safely walk away from the idea that Em was seriously thinking about having children at THAT moment in time. I personally was more struck by her reaction to that 'happy families' line. It was more open to applicability in her own life, plus it made the idea of her adopting a random teenage girl more palatable. Because really, even if you are thinking about having kids, who starts with a 16 yr old survivor of a home invasion who saw her entire family slaughtered? I don't care how great a person you are, that's a lot to take on. So I thought she needed to relate to Carrie personally for that to even make sense. _

_And Hotch, I think the reasoning I gave him is the actual reason he freaked at her. But any underlying logic to his 'objectivity' remark was lost in the harshness of the tone. So I thought it was important that he explain himself better when they got to the plane. This is another thing I'd like to believe canon Hotch did as well. But either way, he's right, they couldn't function if they got that emotionally involved with all their cases. _

_On a related note, of course all of this was all like 2 yrs ago, and Emily's thoughts on parenting at that time, have no bearing on her current feelings on that topic :) I do have a couple more chapters sketched out on that story. They might go up this week. If they do, then just know that whatever story I post on, the other most likely will not be updated that day._

_Next: __** "On Days Like This"**_


	26. On Days Like This

**Author's Note:** I thought this chapter was done a couple days ago but then it just got longer and longer so I ended up cutting it in half, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to post anything today either. So just like 'In Birth & Death' this episode will be addressed over two chapters. This was a big H/P ep though so maybe it's appropriate it took on a life of its own. Seven Seconds is one of my personal favorites. The whole crew was great but this was the first time Hotch & Prentiss were really working their own unique version of the 'we feel your pain' simultaneous good cop/really intense bad cop routine that they both performed. A routine now honed to a terrifying art :)

This part is a missing scene and post ep.

* * *

_Episode – __Seven Seconds_

**On Days Like This**

Hotch stood on the front steps of the mall.

Franklin was right, he needed to go home and see Jack. But then he remembered . . . he couldn't do that. Because Jack wasn't at home. Jack was at "Auntie Jessica's."

God damn it!

He still couldn't adjust to the fact that his family wasn't where they were supposed to be. He randomly would have to remind himself, and then end up getting pissed off all over again.

And now he was going to have to go knock on sister-in-law's door and ask PERMISSION to see his child . . . he checked his watch . . . a child who was definitely sleeping by now. Growling, he dropped his head to his chest.

God his life SUCKED!

Pushing the door of the mall entrance open, Emily scanned the crowd for her boss. The team was ready to leave and she said she'd go collect him. Now why the hell were there so many people . . . oh . . . there he was. And he looked . . . distressed. She started down the stairs.

"Sir?"

Hotch turned his head to see Prentiss standing on the rise above him looking concerned. Furrowing her brow she stepped down next to him, "are you okay?" Straightening up he nodded, "I'm fine."

Emily could see the tension around his mouth . . . he definitely wasn't 'fine.' None of them were fine. They were grateful to find that girl alive, but still, this was anything but a happy ending story. And poor Hotch had to spend the day worrying about somebody else's missing child and he couldn't even go home now and hug his own.

Her brow wrinkled in concern, "is it too late to go see your son?"

Rubbing his face, Hotch huffed, "I actually was just wondering that myself."

Emily checked her watch, "well you're going to lose another hour if you go all the way back to Quantico to get your car. And then you have to go to . . .?"

She looked at him expectantly and Hotch realized she was expecting him to supply the town. He stared at her for a second . . . how did he end up discussing this with her? Didn't he just say he was fine? Shaking his head he gave her an amused look.

"Annandale."

Her eyes widened, "Annandale! God Hotch that's like another forty minutes even in good traffic, but . . ." she checked her watch again, "if you go directly from here, you'll be there in twenty minutes instead of ninety." Then she logically pointed out, "if you're already thinking it might be too late now, isn't it definitely going to be too late by then?"

Damn it . . . he snapped his jaw . . . she was totally right. It was going to be MUCH too late to stop there two hours from now! But he couldn't go straight from the mall, Garcia had come with them so they'd definitely needed to take the second vehicle. But he didn't want to be a complete jerk and take one of the SUVs just for himself.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Seeing Hotch's wheels turning, Emily cut him off before he could protest, "we'll squish." She quirked her lip up, "I'll just put Reid in the way back and throw some vests on top of him. That should weigh him down enough that he won't roll around."

A shadow of a smile crossed Hotch's lips at that mental image. Then he nodded, "well if you're sure you guys will be all right, I think I will go straight from here." Emily's eyes crinkled slightly, "I think that's a good idea sir."

She knew today's interrogation had taken a lot out of him.

Tipping his head Hotch started to hurry off but then he stopped, turning back, "Prentiss?"

She looked over quizzically.

"You did good work today."

Her eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, and when she looked back up she gave him a grim smile, "thank you sir. You too." Hotch stared at her for a moment. She'd spent as much time today with a child molester as he had. But even beyond that, she was the one that broke the aunt. And he was just now realizing, this was her first case that hadn't been a stranger killing. He had no idea how she was going to react to all this once the adrenaline started to wear off, which would be soon.

His brow creased . . . now he was starting to feel guilty for leaving without even asking how she was. But he knew that if he asked her now how she was, she'd just say that she was fine, as he had . . . as they always do . . . and he didn't have the time to stay and break down her barriers right now. He decided he'd just have to check on her after he saw Jack. Not that he was going to tell her that. So as he jingled his keys, his lip quirked up slightly.

"You have a good night Prentiss."

She gave him a sad smile, "you too sir."

Sparing her one more worried glance, Hotch then hurried off to the SUV. He shook his head as he cut through the crowd . . . she did not look good. He'd definitely check on her later.

Emily felt a pang of envy as she watched Hotch run off to see his son. It would be nice to have a child. Well, not necessarily even a child, just _anyone _to go see right now that might provide some respite from this awful abyss she could feel herself sinking into.

Her joking about Reid had been a defensive mechanism she had employed to distract Hotch from giving her too much scrutiny. He worried too much, and he had someplace he needed to be. She certainly didn't want to the reason he got there too late to see his boy. But as soon as she'd seen he was definitely leaving, she'd started to feel her control slip. This was really one of the worst nights she'd ever had, and that was saying something.

It was bad enough when their cases involved children, but that little girl had been RAPED by her _uncle_, and then her aunt, when she found out what was going on, rather than stopping it by calling the authorities, she had attempted to kill the child because she was jealous.

Jealous! Of a six year old RAPE victim!

And these were 'regular people' . . . Emily shook her head in revulsion . . . regular people SUCKED! Seriously, she'd take a straight up sexual sadist murder any day of the week over these domestics. It was the first one she'd had and she could definitely go her whole career without another.

With a slow exhale, Emily rubbed her hand across her mouth . . . she really wished that she had her car with her and that she could just go straight home. The last thing she wanted to do was get in the SUV for a half hour ride with the rest of the team.

Though hopefully they wouldn't feel much like talking either.

That hope was shot to hell when she heard her colleagues talking as they came down the steps behind her. It sounded like Garcia was trying to get everyone to go out for a drink.

Great.

Emily closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out. Then after she'd pasted on a half of something resembling a smile, she finally turned to them.

"Hey guys, you ready to go home?"

/////////////

Hotch felt better, and worse, after seeing Jack. It was a comfort, but leaving him, that hurt so much more than he'd realized.

Because he knew he wasn't going to see him in the morning. He might not see him for a few days. This was all so new . . . and raw . . . that Haley had asked him not to visit every day. Though with work, Hotch knew that it wouldn't have been feasible to go everyday anyway.

But still . . . the option had been taken away from him.

And one part of him understood that if he wanted this to work out long term, that he needed to honor her wishes and give her this time. But the other part of him was resentful as hell that she was keeping him from seeing his son after she promised that she wouldn't. Rationally, he knew that it wasn't punishment, it was just the circumstances.

But the other, baser part of his brain was starting to hate her a little bit. And he did not want to go down that road. Hotch wanted his family back and that was never going to happen if he allowed himself to listen to that little voice.

So, ten minutes after he'd arrived at his sister-in-law's Hotch had left there with a strained "thank you" to Haley for allowing him to see his son for an 'unscheduled' visit. Whether the thank you had sounded sincere or not, Hotch didn't know. Because Jack was just as much his as he was hers and he shouldn't have to _'thank her'_ for the privilege of watching his own child sleep for five minutes!

He shook his head in irritation . . . and there was the little voice again. He was going to have to get a leash for it before it drove him to divorce court.

Hotch focused back in on the streets surrounding him. He was now on his way to see Prentiss. At first he was planning on calling her, but then he'd realized that she was actually on his way home.

Well, he rolled his eyes, one . . . okay, two, towns over but, close enough. It was the same county. He just figured it would be easier to read her in person than it would be on the phone. Plus, this way, she couldn't hang up on him. He was serious when he told he needed her to stay. So to that end, he had made a promise to himself that even with everything going on with Haley that he wouldn't neglect his responsibilities as chief to look after the team.

At times this really was a shit job. And though Prentiss had experienced a lot of terrible things over this past year, unfortunately this was a line of work that regularly supplied new horrors. And she was still new enough that she was still experiencing some of the 'basic' firsts.

And the first time you're searching for a missing child only to discover that members of the loving, grieving family are really the monsters that you're hunting, well, that was a big first.

There had been so many high profile cases over the years where that had turned out to be the case that it was no longer a shock to law enforcement, or even the public. So though they hadn't been caught off guard by today's outcome, there was still nothing . . . NOTHING, like the experience of actually spending time with those types of perpetrators.

Especially when you're a profiler.

You have to manufacture sympathy, get in their heads and then try not to throw up when you leave the room. The violation of trust is so personal, so intimate, that you walk away and it's like there's a film stuck to you that you just can't wash off. And today was especially bad. The pedophile was the twin brother for Christ's sake! And the attempted murderer was the aunt! Prentiss was strong, and she might cover exceptionally well, but she wasn't any more immune to these things than the rest of them. He had seen the despondency she had tried to hide from him when they were on the stairs.

He was less concerned about the others. They had dealt with these types of cases before and Hotch knew that they had their rituals for dealing with them. Garcia and Morgan were out getting drunk right now. They'd have hangovers in the morning and Hotch would pretend like he didn't notice.

JJ, she was off by herself driving the back roads of northern Virginia. She'd be out for hours, and later tonight she'd text him when she got back so that he'd know that she got home all right. Hotch had implemented that rule a couple years earlier when he found out she'd gone and parked in the Shenandoah National Forest at one in the morning.

She'd scared the crap out of him.

Then there was Reid. Hotch knew that he would come in tomorrow with circles under his eyes. He'd be up watching a Star Trek marathon until dawn. It was always Star Trek and Hotch had given that some thought as to why that was. He'd decided that Reid picked that show because it was proof . . . in a way . . . that one day the human race would evolve beyond what they were today.

And on days like this, Hotch knew that all any of them were looking for was hope that one day there wouldn't be days like this.

So he knew the others would be all right, which just left Prentiss to worry about. Hotch knew enough of her personality that she wouldn't have been up for a night out with Derek and Penelope so if nothing else, he thought as he pulled up in front of her building, he was pretty sure she'd be home.

Walking up the steps of her apartment building, Hotch couldn't help but compare it to the last time he was there. He shook his head . . .so little time had passed and so much had happened. He nodded hello to the doorman, telling him where he was going, and then as he stood waiting for the elevator a pizza delivery man walked up beside him. When he glanced glanced down Hotch saw the sticker on the box . . . Prentiss.

Well, at least he knew for sure that she was home. Still staring at the box, Hotch tapped his hand against his thigh, debating with himself.

What the hell.

He turned, "excuse me, sir?"

The delivery man looked over and Hotch gestured at the box, "is that for number 42?" The guy looked down at his receipt, "yep," then he looked him up and down, "you know Miss Prentiss?" Nodding, Hotch pulled out his wallet, "yeah, I know her. I'll take it."

The guy pulled the box back as he looked at him suspiciously, "I've never seen you before."

Seeing the pizza guy's reaction to him, Hotch almost laughed out loud . . . how often did Prentiss order pizza that her delivery guy would know who was, and wasn't, a regular guest in her home?

Hotch pulled out his credentials as he tried to keep his lip from quivering, "I'm her boss, and I assure you," he flipped open his bad, "I can be trusted with her pizza."

The delivery guy . . . Chad, Hotch noted from his name tag . . . gave his badge a hard look and then nodded.

"K' man. It's just that Miss Prentiss is a nice lady, I wanted to make sure you weren't scamming me." Hotch nodded, "I understand completely," he passed Chad a twenty for his due diligence, "keep the change."

Handing the box over with a big grin, Chad yelled as he walked away, "thanks man!"

With a shake of his head Hotch watched him go . . . well, one thing was for certain, Prentiss certainly did inspire loyalty from the masses.

And now . . . Hotch thought as the elevator arrived in the lobby . . . he could at least guarantee that she'd open the door for him.

* * *

_A/N 2: I'm finding as I'm moving further into season three that the chapters are getting longer. More threads to keep pulling along I guess, Hotch's feelings about his situation being a big one. I need to get him to the angry stage that he'll be in by the time he's in the prison with Reid. So now when it comes to editing the final drafts of the chapters, I keep going back and adding more in to flesh things out. Then everything has to be cleaned up again. Basically, what I'm saying is, updates will be intermittent for the next couple weeks. And also, I might start doing these as 'two-parters' more often. I know some authors can post without knowing exactly what's going to happen next in the scene. But unfortunately I can't do that, I'd have a nervous breakdown. I definitely have to finish the whole chapter before anything goes up. BUT I figure I can post at least the first half before I go in and do a final polish on the second. That worked here, because as you can see from where I left this one, it's a completely different scene we're walking into. I miss the good old days of The Hours where I could whip out four or five of my little snapshot chapters in a day. Damn larger plot considerations are seriously SLOWING ME DOWN!  
_

_The good thing is, this rough spot basically is just a problem for season three, because season four aka the AU, already has over forty chapters in it and the first ten sequentially are completely DONE, so things will start going smoothly again around The Crossing. For now, please be patient and keep coming back. I promise the payoff in the AU will be worth it :) Again, there is a second part to this and it should go up tomorrow. Hopefully :)_

_Next: __**"Pizza & Porno" **_

_And I know you want to know what the hell that chapter title means so I will say that a review or two might help the poor beleaguered muse who's batting clean up on part two._


	27. Pizza & Porno

**Author's Note:** Post ep, picks up just after the end of the last chapter.

Companion: Chp. 26, "On Days Like This"

* * *

_Episode – __Seven Seconds_

**Pizza & Porno**

Emily opened her front door to see Hotch standing there holding a pizza box.

Huh.

She was very specifically not expecting that.

As her eyebrow rose up, she stated matter of factly.

"You know traditionally the Girl Scouts sell _cookies_ door to door."

Hotch nodded.

"That's true, but I wasn't a Girl Scout," he handed her the box, "I was a Boy Scout."

Seeing Emily's lips twitch, Hotch's eyes crinkled and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I actually just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I was going to call, but I was already in the neighborhood and I figured you'd still be up."

And though up she clearly was still up, Hotch noticed that she had taken off her makeup and changed into a tank top and sweat pants.

She was definitely in for the night.

And he gave himself a pat on the back for correctly profiling that she wouldn't be out drinking.

Hmm . . . he thought as he looked more closely at her face . . . she was still very pretty even without any artificial enhancement. That was interesting. Haley was so fair that she tended to look a little washed out without any mascara, but Prentiss' lashes were so thick that . . . whoa!

What the HELL was he doing?!

On every level it was INCREDIBLY inappropriate for him to be comparing the relative beauty of his wife versus his, well . . . Prentiss. And in an effort to banish those unexpected (unwelcome) thoughts out of existence, Hotch shook his head slightly.

That was wrong . . . so VERY wrong! But he was blaming it on that damn little voice that was trying to get him divorced.

Watching Hotch's not so subtle perusal of her, Emily's eyes crinkled as she stepped back to let him into the apartment.

It was nice of him to come by, even though she had hoped not to make his list of concerns for the evening.

"Thanks for checking on me sir," she shook her head, "but really, I'm fine."

Given the tension lines around her mouth, Hotch didn't believe that for a second but he held his tongue as he turned to get the door.

As she looked back, Emily smiled a little as she noticed Hotch had stopped to not only shut the door, but also click the deadbolt.

Always Mr. Safety.

And as she continued down towards the kitchen she was thinking how grateful she was that was expecting a pizza delivery. Otherwise when she changed she would have taken her bra off, and, well, that's always a classy way to greet your chief, hanging out of your tank top.

Then she huffed . . . and that really would have been a rather clichéd start to a porno. Pizza man shows up in the form of hot, recently separated boss, buxom brunette answers door with her boobs bouncing around, both parties are distressed after a terrible day at work so in an effort to find a little comfort they . . . whoa!

Emily started to feel herself getting a bit warm. What had started as an innocent observation about her state of dress had turned down a VERY bad road!

_Get it together Em! He's not here for a booty call you moron! This is Hotch. He's worried about you. That's all he does is worry, it's genetically coded into those eyebrows of his. So how about you stop acting like an IDIOT before you say something wildly inappropriate that makes him ship you off to the loony bin._

That's when she remembered that she'd scrubbed off all of her makeup when she came home. And when she looked down she realized that she was wearing a bleach stained tank top and faded sweats.

Pornos . . . even bad ones . . . did not start with a girl that looked like something the cat dragged in.

Fortunately that nice double slap in the face by the cold hard truth of reality was enough to douse the last of the blush from her complexion. Then she chastised herself.

_So if you're now done with your stupid fantasies Emily, maybe you could take note of the fact that you haven't acknowledged the man just handed you a box of food._

"Um," she stammered slightly, "this was really nice of you to bring me dinner, but, I uh actually have a pizza coming."

Hotch rolled his eyes as he followed Emily into the kitchen.

"Prentiss that _is_ your pizza. I met the guy downstairs."

For a moment she looked dumbly at him . . . and then back down at the box.

"Oh," she started slowly, "well yeah, that makes much more sense."

With a slightly raised eyebrow, Hotch shook his head at her.

"Yale you say?"

It was an innocuous enough joke, but to his surprise Emily's response was to shoot him a dirty look as she put the pizza box down on the counter.

"It's been a long day sir," she snapped. And Hotch bit his lip as he nodded.

"I know," he said softly, "I'm sorry."

And apparently she was in much worse shape than he'd feared. It wasn't at all like her to lose her temper.

Hearing the contrition in his tone, Emily realized how out of line her response had been. She looked over at him in surprise.

Wow. She so had not meant to snap at him, he was just making a joke. A joke for which he had just apologized. And she was doing a really crummy job of covering her mood if he'd already read her that easily just walking in the door.

Then she felt her shoulders slump.

Who did she think she was kidding? She was miserable. And all she'd wanted to do since she got home was cry. But she was afraid of what would happen if she started. She could feel the depression like a wave pressing against her chest. If she didn't keep pushing it back, it was going to roll over her and she'd drown. Her usual routine for dealing with her stress, the little boxes that she put so much faith in, they weren't working. Unfortunately she didn't have any that had been previously labeled, "Pederasts & Their Jealous Homicidal Bitch Wives."

The situation hadn't come up before.

So that left her with no place to stick the things she had seen today. All of the words . . . the images, they were just swirling in her head, torturing her.

That's why . . . though Emily she didn't want to add herself to Hotch's list of worries . . . she was actually very pleased to see him.

He was a distraction. And maybe if he stayed for a little while this melancholy would start to pass and her normal coping mechanisms would kick in again.

Watching Prentiss fold in on herself, Hotch was sure that she was about to break. But then she surprised him when she straightened up and leaned back against the counter. A faint smile touched her lips.

"You want a beer, sir?"

Seeing the question for what it was, an invitation to stay, his eyes crinkled slightly.

"Sure."

She was actually admitting to him that she wasn't fine, that she needed help. The last time he was here it had taken almost a complete baring of his own soul to break through her defenses. And though it was unfortunate that what had happened today had to happen at all, he was at least pleased to see that things between them had progressed to this point.

That she trusted him so readily now.

Emily went over and took a can of Guinness out of the fridge.

There was no reason to ask if it was all right . . . she already knew it was his favorite. And after popping the lid, she slowly poured the thick stout into a Pilsner glass. It matched the one sitting on her coffee table.

The one that was also full of the same dark brown liquid.

And once she'd handed Hotch the beer, she went over and picked up the pizza box, carrying it into the living room and placing it on the coffee table. There she arranged herself cross legged on the floor before reaching over to pick up her beer.

She took a small sip.

It wasn't until she was placing the glass back on the table that she finally noticed that Hotch was still standing where she had left him. Her lip quirked up slightly as she gestured to the sofa.

"I know you're accustomed to sitting behind a desk, but I bet if you squinted really hard you could pretend the couch was your chair and the pizza box was a stack of files."

Lips twitching, Hotch came over and put his glass on the table. Then he slipped off his jacket and put it on the back of the couch before he sat down.

She never could extend an invitation like a regular person.

Once Emily was satisfied that Hotch was comfortably situated, she opened the box to let the pie cool and then looked back up at him. "So I already know why you're here. But what made you decide to randomly mug Chad this evening?"

Hotch was about to answer her but then stopped when he realized what she'd just said. His arms crossed at his chest as he raised an amused eyebrow.

"That reminds me. What's going on with that? I got the third degree from your friend Chad when I tried to get the pizza." His lip quirked up, "are you on a first name basis with all of your delivery men?"

Emily smirked while leaning back on her hands.

"Just Chad and Billy."

Hotch tipped his head and she smiled while clarifying.

"Pizza and Chinese."

"Of course," Hotch nodded sagely, "the two basic building blocks on the food pyramid. Well, I'm sorry to deprive you of _Chad's_ company this evening," he said dryly, "but I ran into him in the lobby and I didn't really want to go through the awkward process of keeping pace with him all the way down to your door."

Immediately picturing the scene in her head, Emily began to laugh as she started to pull the slices apart.

"Yeah, that would have been awkward!" Then she looked back down at the table, "oops, forgot plates."

With that, Emily jumped up and ran back out to the kitchen. And after grabbing the roll of paper towel, she quickly tore off a couple of sheets as she walked back down to the living room.

She handed one to Hotch as she made her way back around the coffee table.

Hotch chuckled as he looked down at the floral design.

"Prentiss this is _not_ a plate."

Not unless you lived in a frat house.

Rolling her eyes she picked up a slice, quickly transferring it to her own 'plate' before it dripped.

"Of course they are. They're just dual function, plate + napkin," her eyes crinkled, "it's one of God, and Bounty's, finest inventions."

Hotch shook his head as he picked up his own slice of pizza . . . God he was hungry! He hadn't eaten since . . . well, he didn't know when he'd last eaten so that meant the hours were in the double digits. The smell of the pizza on the elevator had been taunting him and he'd been debating stopping at some greasy 24 hour drive thru on the way home.

This was a much better . . . though, quite unexpected . . . way to end his evening.

Though he'd only intended to pop in on her, not actually settle in and share a meal. But they did it all the time on the road. And if it helped her to have him stay for a bit, well, it's not like there was anyone at home waiting for him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes and then Hotch looked over at her . . . she was chewing slowly as she stared at the carpet.

Seeing that her mask had slipped again, he thought this was a good opening. So he cleared his throat as he tried to ask casually.

"Why didn't you go out with Morgan and Garcia?"

Slightly puzzled at the question, Emily looked over at Hotch with a wrinkled brow.

"How did you know that they were going out?"

Hotch put down his slice and wiped his fingers on the corner of the paper towel.

"Because they always go out and get drunk after days like this. And if I may further speculate, I assume JJ begged off because she was going for a drive and Reid, though he often gets browbeat by Garcia and Morgan, was insistent about going home to watch Star Trek."

Emily dropped her slice of pizza in the box.

"How did you know all that?"

As he leaned back against the couch, Hotch bit back a sigh.

"Prentiss, cases like today, though they are common across the country, fortunately don't come up very often for us. But when they do," he closed his eyes, "they're the hardest kind to shake off." Opening his eyes again he looked hard at her, "everybody has a special way of dealing with them," his face softened, "you'll find yours, and, I promise it won't be so bad next time."

When she looked down, Emily tried to distract herself by playing with a loose string on her tank top.

She knew it wasn't just her that was struggling. They'd all had to find a new way of dealing with these cases.

That made her feel better.

As did Hotch's promise that it wouldn't so bad next time. Because she wasn't naïve, she knew there would be a next time. And . . . she swallowed hard . . . she really didn't want to go through this again. It was like somebody close to her had died.

It was that same weight on her chest.

Her gaze came back up as she looked over at Hotch intently.

"What do you do?"

There had to be something. After all, he'd been doing this the longest, and he wasn't in a psych ward yet.

He gave her a sad smile.

"I go home and sit with my son."

Emily immediately felt the flood of tears hit her eyes as she hurriedly nodded, "oh, right," she bit her lip, "sorry."

_Stupid! Way to go Em!_

Hotch shook his head dismissively, "it's okay."

It really wasn't, but that had nothing to do with her. And he didn't want her to feel guilty for bringing it up. He could see she was trying so hard not to cry so he tried to think of something that would help her. He rubbed his hands together . . . oh . . . that was something she might like to hear. It was also something he'd never told anyone before. But if it helped . . .

He leaned forward.

"Would you like to know what I did before I had Jack?"

Emily immediately straightened up.

"Yes," she nodded, "please."

She was desperate for suggestions. Her boxes weren't working, she didn't want to get drunk, she wasn't in the mood for Star Trek and the last thing she wanted to do was put on shoes and go out for a drive.

Hotch gave Emily an ironic smile.

"Nature documentaries."

Seeing her brow wrinkled, he tried to explain what that meant.

"I found them to be relaxing. I guess, reminding myself of the big picture helped my mind put the other things into perspective."

It was a little embarrassing talking about something he considered so personal, and he wasn't even sure if he was explaining it properly.

He wasn't even sure if he _could_ explain it properly!

Who the hell knows why one thing works for one person but doesn't for another? But he could see Emily's eyes were getting brighter as he spoke, so clearly he was making a connection of some kind. And then she cut in excitedly.

"I have the Planet Earth DVDs!"

And she pushed herself off the floor and hurried over to one of the two large matching bookcases. The one she was standing in front of was half full of books and half full of DVDs. Then Hotch saw her lean down to pluck a large box off the bottom shelf before she turned around.

"Here!" She announced triumphantly.

Hotch's eyes crinkled at her enthusiasm, "that's good Prentiss but I can't promise it'll work for you too."

After she'd popped the first DVD out of the case, she turned back to him.

"I know, but what you said made sense to me." Then she stopped in front of the television as she looked over, slightly embarrassed.

"Usually I um, sort out my feelings into these like," she paused, "metaphorical boxes. I deal with things a little bit at a time. But this," she shook her head, "I can't process the things that happened today in small pieces," she looked hard at him, "focusing in on the details is killing me. I see that, that . . . woman comforting the mother, and," her face contorted in disgust, "the uncle, raping that little girl. But maybe," her eyes dropped down to the disc in her hand, "doing the opposite, reminding myself that the world is bigger than these things that we see. That," she nodded, "that might actually help."

Seeing that Emily was serious, that he'd actually been able to do something for her, Hotch started to get up to go.

"Okay then," he nodded, "well, I'll leave you to it."

Emily whipped back around, looking over at him crestfallen.

"You're leaving!"

He couldn't leave yet! She didn't know if this was going to work!

But then she took a breath as she realized that she was being unfair to him. This wasn't his problem . . . it was hers.

She needed to deal with it on her own.

So in an effort to salvage her pride, she quickly shook her head as she tried to give him a smile.

"I'm sorry sir. I didn't . . . um . . . thank you for checking on me." Her gaze fell to the carpet, "I'll be okay."

Pausing just as he was about to slip on his jacket, Hotch looked over at Emily.

God, she looked so unhappy.

His eyes dropped down to check his watch.

It was too late to go into the office now anyway. What was another half hour?

So he dropped his coat back to the couch before he sat back down and began rolling up his sleeves.

"You know what? I've heard good things about that Planet Earth program. I think I can stay a little longer." Her eyes snapped back up to his and he gave her a little smile.

"If you don't mind."

Feeling the tears start to prick her eyes . . . he was being really sweet . . . Emily shook her head. Then she gave him a watery smile.

"I don't mind."

Hotch winked at her.

"Good."

Starting to feel a little better just for him staying, Emily put the one of the oceanic discs into the DVD player before retreating to the arm chair next to the couch.

As soon as she sat down, she pulled her legs up in front of her.

Though knew it was classic protective stance, and Hotch would see it as such, she figured it didn't much matter. She'd already practically _begged_ the man to sit and watch television with her.

It's not like she had much pride left this evening.

But as she started to watch the program, she realized he'd been right . . . this was helping. The images were soothing, and providing her some perspective she hadn't been able to find earlier. And she never would have come up with it on her own.

Thirty minutes into the program she turned and gave Hotch a soft smile, "thank you for this sir."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he looked back.

"You're welcome Prentiss. I'm glad it helped."

She seemed better. Calmer. And to his amazement . . . he was too.

He'd forgotten about this trick. But before Jack was born, this had been his primary means of dealing with the stress and tension in his life. And he realized now that with Jack out of the house, he'd probably have to go back to it. Though he supposed he shouldn't think of it like that . . . as a chore. He should just be grateful there was something else that might keep his sanity intact. Especially now with the added stress of the separation.

Maybe he'd pick up some DVDs of his own.

Hotch turned, and he started to ask Prentiss how much the program was, and then realized that she had fallen asleep. His expression softened.

Once her mind had given her some peace, the stress of the day had caught up with her. And he didn't want to wake her, not knowing if she'd be able to get back to sleep again.

Though . . . he furrowed his brow as he looked over at her . . . he remembered from her sleeping habits on the plane that if she cramped up like that, she'd be complaining of a stiff neck in the morning.

After he'd stood up, he looked down at her for a second, trying to decide how to reposition her without waking her up. She was leaning back against the chair, curled into a ball with her head tipped over to her shoulder and her arms wrapped around knees.

Okay . . . he reminded himself . . . he had a two year old. That gave him plenty of practice move sleeping bodies without waking them. So he'd just apply the same principles to her as he did to Jack. He looked behind him.

First things first.

And first thing was to grab one of the throw pillows and put it on the cushion at the end of the couch. Then he went back over to the armchair and leaned down to pick Emily up. He put one hand behind her back, and the other under her knees before he slowly lifted her out of the chair and pulled her against his chest.

A little heavier than Jack, but really not heavy at all.

Before he took a step, Hotch looked down to make sure that she wasn't starting to stir . . . he'd learned that lesson the hard way.

Once he was sure that she was still out, he carefully maneuvered around the coffee table and placed her on the couch. She immediately rolled to her side and wrapped her arms around herself again.

He bit his lip . . . she was cold. And he couldn't leave her like that.

But fortunately . . . he turned around . . . when he was looking around the room, he'd seen a basket of blankets sitting on the window seat. So he went over and grabbed a wool one, and then decided to grab a flannel one too because it wouldn't be so scratchy.

After he got back to the couch, he tucked the flannel one around Emily first, and then put the wool one on top to make sure she was warm enough. Then he stepped back.

And, just like he had with Jack a few hours earlier, he looked down to watch her sleep for a moment.

It wasn't the same, but it was still . . . comforting. That was it, comforting. And then suddenly he knew why. All of this time he had been so concerned about Jack, not seeing him, that he hadn't stopped to acknowledge another truth.

He missed his wife terribly.

Of course he was beginning to get angry with her about the separation, very angry actually, but that didn't change the fact that he walked around all the time feeling like something vital had been ripped out of his chest. And though he knew that a large part of that was Jack, it was Haley too.

He still loved his wife.

Though . . . maybe . . . if he was honest with himself, not like he used to. Not like when they were young. But relationships evolved, they changed, and he knew what he still felt for her was love. Whether it was enough to get her back, he didn't know. But he did know now why he was comforted watching Prentiss sleep. Apart from his time on the road, he hadn't slept alone in almost twenty years. And he could feel his eyes sting now as he looked down at this beautiful woman who was so different from his pretty wife.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

If only he could pretend for just a minute . . . just one minute that she was someone that she wasn't, maybe he wouldn't feel so gut achingly lonely.

No . . . he sighed as he wiped the corner of his eye . . . what he really needed to do was leave before he did something stupid.

It had been too long a day and too much had happened.

So as he rubbed his eyes, he stepped back from the couch. Then he crossed the room to turn off the television and the DVD player. When he came back he stopped to lean down and fix Emily's blanket, making sure to pull it up tightly around her shoulders so she wouldn't get cold. And then with a sigh, he gave her one more long look before he shook his head. Then he grabbed the pizza off the table and his coat off the couch.

Before he left the apartment, he put the box in the fridge and then he slipped on his jacket as he walked to the door.

He hit the lights on his way out. And then he pulled the door tight to make sure the locked clicked. Then he started down the corridor.

He didn't look back once.

* * *

_A/N 2: Hopefully it was clear, but Hotch's little dilemma at the end there, that had nothing to do with any latent feelings for Emily. That was just about missing his wife. This won't lead to awkwardness or anything. It was a momentary thing and he let it go when he walked out the door. I am allowing him to be more cognizant of her physical attributes simply because he's separated, and though I'm not a guy, that does seem like maybe how their brains would work. But, if you'll recall he's acknowledged to himself from the beginning that she was beautiful. He just tried to explain it away before. Single Hotch, you'll see he just acknowledges, accepts and embraces this fact, long before he's even in love with her :) Keep in mind there's still over a year before The Hours starts, though they do fall in love earlier than that, it begins as a friendship (around Lo-Fi), so interactions between them in season three are just affection between teammates, or in this instance, Hotch dealing with some misplaced emotions he had been bottling up. I actually had a completely different ending in mind for this, lighter, but after I posted yesterday I was cleaning it up and Hotch decided he had something else to say. I think it works though. It's interesting writing the divorce angle, usually I just write Hotch without thinking, but with that aspect of his situation, I have to do the same thing with him that I do with Haley or Em's mom, get in his head so I can see things how he does. And that part of it, denying to yourself that you're sad because you miss your wife and you don't know if you can get her back, that seemed important to add in. So a little round of applause to Hotch for reminding me of what he was going through!_

_And their coping mechanism with the nature documentaries, I gave them that back in The Hours. The baby elephant chapter, and you'll remember, they watched a lot of Discovery. You figure the cancer thing was pretty stressful. Total aside, it was nice writing in Emily's apartment again. Given that probably 55 of the 65 chapters in The Hours took place in her home, I have the entire floor plan sketched out in my head. It was like going to visit a friend's house :)_

_FYI: I won't be posting on this story tomorrow but I will be putting up a chapter on "Life & Such." Hopefully I'll be back here on Friday, if not definitely Saturday. The next chapter is mostly done, it's the ones after that aren't written yet so I want a couple days to get ahead of the curve._

_Next: __**"What's Your Damage Rossi?"**_


	28. What's Your Damage Rossi?

**Author's Note:** This is a missing scene from the episode where Rossi is introduced. And it pains me looking back on how jerky he came off there, because next to Hotch and Emily he's definitely my favorite. And lately he's like both of their BFFs so, to be totally up front about my Rossi bias, I really couldn't love Dave more if he came with a free beer. Unfortunately though, there were some things with his behavior in this episode that needed to be addressed.

And in my never ending quest to find new and inventive places to have them talk, I decided to give them a delay at the airport. It's unbelievably never happened onscreen, but damn it, this is REAL fake life!

* * *

_Episode – __About Face_

**What's Your Damage Rossi?**

Emily wrinkled her brow. Their jet was gone.

That was a first.

There were a pool of jets in the FBI used for rapid response but ordinarily . . . because of their line item budget . . . the BAU had exclusive access to their own plane. But the team had arrived at the airport to discover that earlier that afternoon there had been a white powder incident in Austin that had turned up positive for anthrax in a field test. So Washington had decided to bend the rules to enable the Counterterrorism Unit out of the Dallas field office to borrow the BAU's plane to fly down there. After Hotch made a few calls he found out that the jet was on the return trip now to pick them up for the flight home.

But for the time being they were stuck at the airport.

There was a little bit of grumbling at that, but for the most part the team took the news well. They did appreciate that if they had to fly commercial like most of the Bureau, they'd spend half of their lives stuck in airports. So once they'd accepted their new situation, Rossi went off to buy a paper, JJ and Emily hit the ladies room, and the other three went in search of coffee.

As they were exiting the bathroom, JJ turned to Emily.

"You know what? I think I'm going to go out for some air," she scowled, "the last thing I want to do is go sit on some hard bench with stupid David Rossi and his big stupid face sitting five feet away from me. It's bad enough that I'm going to be stuck on the plane with him, but there's no reason to prolong my torment."

Biting her lip to hide her amusement at the 'stupid face rant', Emily nodded.

"Okay then, well, I'll go find the guys and we'll call you when it's time to go."

JJ grunted something unintelligible and stalked off leaving Emily with her lips twitching.

Angry JJ was always good for a laugh. But her "stupid face" ranting had reminded Emily of an issue that needed to be addressed. So she slung her bag over her shoulder and went in search of Hotch and the boys. After a few minutes wandering around the food court area, she spotted them at a table in the corner of the Starbucks. Rossi wasn't there so Emily figured as long as they had a few minutes of privacy, she might as well get this matter cleared up.

After she'd dropped down into the seat next to her boss, Emily blurted out, "so David Rossi, complete ass or what?"

Hotch had just taken a drink and choked out a spit take, ending up with coffee on the table and down the front of his tie.

Reid was less fortunate than Hotch, he was also taking a sip at that moment but his frappachino went completely down the wrong pipe. He started gagging and Derek dropped his own cup to begin pounding on Reid's back.

Hotch's eyes were watering as he quickly shot a look over at Derek and Spencer. It took only a second to determine that Reid wasn't in any mortal danger, so he turned to Prentiss while coughing out an, "excuse me!"

Emily looked at the three men various states of disarray, and felt a faint twinge of guilt. But she pushed it aside as she threw up her hands and turned her full attention back to Hotch.

"Rossi, WHAT is his deal?"

She shook her head she leaned over to grab some napkins off the next table. Then she handed a couple to Hotch for his tie, before she went about cleaning up the spill on the table.

Ordinarily she'd let him do it himself, but in this instance she did acknowledge some culpability in the appearance of the rapidly spreading puddle.

After assuring himself that Reid's heaving gasps indicated he was once again breathing on his own, Derek turned his attention to Hotch.

"Really man," he said with annoyance, "that thing with the press, total dick move."

Reid, his voice raw, also managed to scratch out his opinion on the situation.

"Yeah, you know I'm a huge fan of his Hotch, but honestly, I've never seen JJ that angry," he coughed, "and I once accidentally shredded a stack of her reports that she'd left in the wrong pile on my desk." He got a faraway look in his eyes as he shook his head slowly from side to side, "that was bad."

Still scrubbing at his tie, Hotch rolled his eyes in irritation . . . he had been expecting that at some point he was going to have to smooth out some ruffled feathers over Dave's behavior. But he _hadn't _expected it at the airport.

God damn CTU had to go and steal their plane. Ergh.

Once he'd realized that he'd ignored his team past the point that was reasonably polite, Hotch dropped his napkin and looked around the table.

"You guys really want to do this NOW?"

Emily looked at the other two. Given that she was the one that decided to raise the issue first, she became spokesperson by default. They had discussed this earlier amongst themselves and it was decided that either she or Derek would speak to Hotch.

Of course they hadn't discussed _when_ they'd speak to Hotch, but Emily didn't believe in letting things fester. They were about to jump back on a cross country flight with the man in question, and she really didn't want to spend that whole time distracted with trying to find the right time to bring up the issue.

Apparently neither did the other two. So at the affirmative nods from Reid and Morgan, she turned to Hotch and stated their position.

"Hotch, it's almost impossible to trust the man, ergo _work_ with him, until we're sure he's not deliberately sabotaging our cases so that he can ride in and play hero," she scowled, "it's like there's a Team Rossi and a Team BAU."

Reid and Derek nodded their agreement at that assessment before Derek added, "and I have to tell you Hotch, to borrow Emily's metaphor, it's a little hard right now to accept that Team Rossi has the same interests as Team BAU. I mean we don't know why he's back, maybe he's got a new book coming out and is looking for some free publicity."

With one hand scrubbing across his forehead, Hotch closed his eyes and counted to ten.

He really wished Dave was there so he could give him a swift kick in the ass for getting him stuck in the middle of this crap. First he had made that veiled remark about JJ . . . media liaison his ass, Hotch knew that he'd been talking about having a 'hot blonde' on the team. Hotch had met his second wife and seen pictures of his first, JJ was EXACTLY his type.

It wasn't that Dave didn't think women made capable agents, he did. He wasn't sexist, he was just, well, an old school version of Morgan.

Hotch gave an internal eye roll . . . that'll be nice having two of them chasing skirts, each in their own inimitable fashion.

All that said . . . Hotch took a breath as he reminded himself . . . he was _grateful_ to have Dave back. He'd been his mentor when he first started, and had taught him as much as Gideon had in half the time. And, God knew they certainly needed the help. But given his actions that week, he could certainly understand the team's wariness of him. And it wasn't going to do much for morale, which had already taken quite a beating that year, if they were walking around suspicious of the motivations of their newest member. They'd already gone through that last year with Prentiss. It took months for her to be accepted by everyone and find her place on the team.

He'd really like to avoid a repeat of that with Dave.

Emily waited patiently as Hotch got his temper under control. She knew that little twitch over his temple, he just needed a minute. And given that she'd ambushed him . . . remembering too late how much he hated that . . . the least she could do was sit quietly until he was ready to speak.

Morgan and Reid were also familiar with the eye twitch, and she could see that they were likewise choosing to keep their mouths shut for the time being.

When Hotch opened his eyes, he looked down at the table.

"All right," he started slowly, "first of all, I understand what you're saying. And I can see how some events this week could be misinterpreted as being . . . self serving. However, I can assure you that he is not," Hotch looked up to give Emily droll look as he mimed air quotes, "an ass."

Seeing her lips twitch, Hotch shot her a glare before continuing.

"Dave's a good guy. He's just . . ." Hotch paused for a second as he searched for a diplomatic word, "'adjusting' to the approach that we take now with the cases. You have to remember that when the BAU was created, all of the profilers were very autonomous. They were technically a team but they didn't function as one. Trust me, he definitely understands now that things are different."

Hotch looked around, making eye contact with each of them, settling last on Emily.

"Please just give him a chance to settle in, you already know his experience is invaluable. And I'm sure in time, you'll come to see, he's a good man too."

Emily looked hard at Hotch for a moment before tipping her head.

_Okay._

If Hotch was giving Rossi a thumbs up, that was good enough for her. She appreciated how hard it was to be the new guy on the team, so she had wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It's just that his behavior that week had made it hard. But she trusted Hotch implicitly, so she'd make an effort with Rossi and hopefully she'd soon be able to see in him what Hotch did.

Reid . . . in part because he was still not cured of his hero worship . . . was equally willing to take Hotch's word on Rossi.

As Hotch expected, Morgan was a harder sell. He said that he'd "wait and see" how things went. He still didn't trust why a guy in his position would want to come back to the grind. There had to be some less altruistic reason than just wanting to help out because they were short handed.

But Hotch wasn't at all surprised by Derek's position. He was always the Doubting Thomas of their group, which worked well in helping them cover all the angles. And that was yet another point against Dave's supposition that somehow because they bounced ideas off one another that meant they didn't think for themselves. Hotch rubbed his temple . . . he was just glad this hadn't been a protracted discussion

It definitely could have been worse.

The Rossi issue addressed, Morgan and Reid decided to go find something to eat. Emily and Hotch both begged off, watching the other two walk away debating whether they had time to get a pizza or if they should stick to sandwiches.

Once they were gone, Emily turned to Hotch with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry about your coffee. Do you want me to go get you another one?"

The twinge of guilt she'd ignored earlier, had returned with a bit more persistence.

With a shake of his head, Hotch responded drily, "no that's fine, if I need a pick me up later I can always squeeze my tie out."

Emily looked at him for a second and then responded in the same tone.

"Well, I dropped a cruller on my jacket a few hours ago so if you want a snack, just let me know and I can scrape some jelly off my sleeve."

They stared at each other for a moment as Hotch's lips twitched, and just when Emily thought he had it under control . . . he burst out laughing.

"Prentiss," he chuckled, "the things that come out of your mouth never cease to amaze me."

Emily grinned at him, exceedingly proud of herself for actually making him laugh. Usually the best she could get was a small smile, occasionally a dimple if she really worked it, but actual laughter, this was a momentous occasion.

He needed to laugh more, hell he needed to smile more. The poor guy was stressed out all the time. And as a total aside, she'd noticed that when he laughed, _both_ dimples appeared. And she'd concluded that with both dimples out, he really was . . . objectively speaking . . . quite adorable. And she didn't have a crush on her boss.

That was simply an empirical statement of fact.

Though the thought of actually telling HIM that, almost made her laugh out loud herself . . . God, he'd absolutely KILL her! But it would be worth it.

Hotch's still had a look of amusement on his face when he looked over at her. Emily's lip turned up in response.

_Oh yeah, it would TOTALLY be worth it to get Hotch's reaction to her telling him that he was fricking adorable!_

But . . . she sighed . . . not today. She had one more matter to attend to which would be rather difficult to accomplish if Hotch was shoving her lifeless corpse into the baggage hold. So she moved on to the other matter with a soft smile, "do you want me to talk to JJ."

Puzzled at her statement, Hotch looked over at Prentiss in confusion, "I already talked to JJ at the precinct. Is she still upset?"

If she was it was news to him.

Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise, "uh yeah."

How had he not picked up on that? She'd barely spoken two words to anyone in hours. Then Emily remembered that he was distracted with a few other issues and realized she was probably going to have to walk him through this one.

"She's outside now cooling off because she quote 'didn't want to look at stupid David Rossi's stupid face' end quote."

There . . . Emily gave herself a little pat on the back . . . that should be more than sufficient to get the point across.

As he sat back in his chair, Hotch furrowed his brow at Prentiss.

Huh. He had NO idea JJ was still angry. Of course . . . he thought with not a little irony . . . given that he was somewhat surprised when his wife of twenty years had moved out, it was obvious he was somewhat _lacking_ in his ability to judge the moods of the women closest to him.

Strangers he could read no problem, but he'd get comfortable with the people around him and tended to not look as hard at them as he did outsiders.

He started to push back his chair . . . well now that he was aware that there _was_ a problem, he needed to address it.

Seeing that Hotch was about to go in search of their media liaison, Emily put her hand up.

"Ah, wait one more thing sir."

His eyebrows went up and Emily wrinkled her nose.

"You should probably know that she's kind of mad at you too."

If he hadn't see the other thing, he DEFINITELY hadn't seen this one.

Hotch looked over at Prentiss in astonishment.

"Mad at me!" he exclaimed, "what did _I_ do!?"

For God's sake, how was it that women were continually getting pissed off at him and he had NO idea that it was happening!?

Emily sighed, "she doesn't think you came down hard enough on Rossi."

Hotch shook his head in bewilderment.

"But, I did speak to Rossi."

He certainly hadn't done it in front of everyone, but they were there when he pulled him out of the room. They _knew_ what he was doing. Plus he'd had the conversation with Dave in the SUV, and Derek had been there for that.

It just wasn't possible that it hadn't gotten back to the rest of them.

It was obvious to Emily from the look on Hotch's face, that he was utterly baffled as to how any of this could be his fault. She shook her head sadly.

_Men. It didn't matter how big their IQs, they were still completely oblivious when it came to women._

So she rubbed her hands together as she tried to, gently, explain the problem to Hotch.

"It's just that," Emily started slowly, "JJ, she . . . she does all the scut work, smoothing out the rough edges with the locals, getting grilled by the media, holding the hands of the victim's families. That's her niche, and we couldn't do our work without it, but . . . at the end of the day, we're the ones with the cool profiler title so we get the credit even though it truly is a collaborative effort with us, her and Garcia back home. And you know JJ's fine with that, she, like the rest of us, isn't looking for any glory. But Hotch really," Emily gave him a hard look, "Rossi shit all over the two biggest functions of her job this week. He didn't just step on her toes, he completely undermined her authority," she paused, "but Rossi's new. So basically it comes down to him doing a crappy thing to the team, but at the time, he didn't really understand that it was a PERSONAL affront to JJ. He gets that now, so she's just pissed off at him abstractly. But . . . with you," Emily gave him a sympathetic smile to soften the blow, "she's hurt that you didn't stand up for her."

Hotch flinched.

_He'd hurt JJ and he hadn't even known it? Christ, just how badly was he fucking up his life?_

Seeing the flash of pain on Hotch's face, Emily very much wished that she hadn't been the one to tell him that. But he needed to know. And she tried to take the sting out of what her words as she gently patted his arm.

"Hotch I _know _how much you value JJ, I do. And any other week, JJ would say that she knows it too. But . . ." Emily paused, "it's not any other week, it's this week. And this week she's upset." Emily sat back, "JJ wasn't going to say anything but I thought you'd want to know," she sighed, "it's just that, even people who know they're important to you, if they start to feel unappreciated, their feelings get hurt and it can cause a strain on the relationship. And the other person never knows why things aren't like they used to be."

That's how Emily had lost her college boyfriend. Of course in that scenario PAUL was the one that ended up with the hurt feelings. But still, given how glib Emily's own family was when it came to expressing their real emotions, she was grateful that she was still young when she'd learned that lesson about sensitivity to other peoples.

Hotch looked hard at Emily for a second . . . he really could have used that fantastic insight six months ago. Then he looked down as he blew out a puff of air.

_Well at least this was one relationship he could get back on course before any damage had been done. _

He nodded firmly.

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to her."

With a weary sigh, Hotch stood up and started to push in his chair. But then another quandry came to him and he wrinkled his brow as he looked back down at Prentiss, "coffee?"

"No," Emily shook her head dismissively, "no, you know she doesn't like it this late when we're flying home. It'll keep her up. Get a diet coke and a Hershey bar."

He nodded, "right."

Then he started to walk off but turned back again.

"Should I take my bag? Or are you staying here?"

Emily shook her head as she reached over and picked up his duffel from the other side of the table.

"No, I got it," she put his bag down next to her own and then looked up, "I'll be here and the boys will be back shortly."

Hotch nodded again and then Emily watched him head towards the exit in search of JJ.

Fortunately with their badges they didn't have to go through security, otherwise fresh air wouldn't have been an attractive option for JJ to begin with. And after Hotch disappeared, Emily reached down and pulled her book out of her bag. Then a few minutes later Reid and Morgan returned with a large pizza. She declined their offer of a slice . . . though she was hungry, she didn't like greasy food in her system right before they flew . . . in favor of going over to get a diet coke.

It would sit better.

The boys had finished up half of their pie when Rossi wandered over to their table carrying a bags from stores around the terminal. And Emily . . . remembering Hotch's advice to give him a chance . . . decided to put her book away. So with a friendly smile, she pulled up another chair and asked Dave to tell her about Strauss, The Early Years.

Emily had heard that they'd started out together and it turned out Rossi did have more than a few good . . . i.e. slightly embarrassing for Strauss . . . stories from their rookie year. He was indeed amusing company, and Emily was starting to see what Hotch had been talking about.

Now Emily just hoped that the others would take Hotch's advice too.

Just as the guys were polishing off their pizza, Hotch and JJ arrived with the announcement that the jet was ten minutes out and they could go to the gate. Everybody started to gather their bags, and as Hotch reached down to take his duffel from Emily he whispered a "thanks" and slipped her a bag of chocolate covered pretzels out of his jacket pocket.

Making sure to hide her smile, Emily tucked the treat into her bag before anyone saw them.

Apparently everything with JJ went well. Because it was clear from both Hotch's demeanor, and JJ's expression, that their media liaison was in much better spirits now than when she had been when Emily had last seen her.

Hotch had spent enough time with Prentiss to know her snack of choice, but he hadn't wanted JJ to know Prentiss had anything to do with his trip to see her. He did know enough about women to know that they didn't like to find out that you had to be TOLD that they were upset.

But Prentiss had been right, JJ was still quite angry and he hadn't seen it. Though he'd like to think that if he didn't have half of his mind preoccupied with his situation back home that he would have noticed her mood himself.

He didn't know if that made it better or worse. Because in the present scenario he'd completely missed what was right under his nose because he was too wrapped up in his personal problems to see that JJ was upset.

Thank God Prentiss had said something. She'd definitely covered his ass today.

And his little chat with JJ . . . she'd vented, he'd apologized for what had happened, assured her it wouldn't be a problem in the future, and she seemed to be in a good mood as they walked back.

His eyes crinkled as he saw her laughingly steal the last piece of pizza out of Morgan's hand as they walked towards the door.

_Yeah, it looked like she was okay now._

Falling in step behind Prentiss and Rossi . . . who were a little ways back from the other three . . . Hotch heard Dave ask Prentiss what kind of magazines JJ liked. Before she could respond he sheepishly continued that he'd bought a People, a Time, and a Vogue. Hotch heard Prentiss chuckle as she told Dave to give her the Vogue and Morgan would probably take the People.

As he listened to the exchange, Hotch's mouth began to twitch . . . Dave had three ex-wives, and much more experience with pissed off women than Hotch did. So clearly Dave had picked up faster than he himself had that he was still in the doghouse with JJ.

When they turned down the corridor to head into their own terminal, Rossi jogged up ahead of the group to catch JJ alone before they got on the plane.

Emily dropped back next to Hotch. She turned to look at him . . . deduced from his look of amusement that he'd overheard her conversation with Dave . . . and she smirked.

"See Hotch, you got off easy. Rossi blew fifteen bucks trying to buy back JJ's affection, you only had to spend like three fifty."

Hotch flicked his eyes over, "plus a dollar sixty nine for your pretzels."

As she patted her bag protectively, Emily shot him a grin, "money well spent sir."

His lip quirked up slightly.

"That it was Prentiss . . . that it was."

* * *

_A/N 2: I know generally the purpose of this back story is to write the wrongs in the H/P world, but in this instance, it was really JJ that required the behind the scenes apologies. She got wronged by Rossi, and I did not feel that Hotch really stepped up enough to make it better. But as with the Emily setbacks, I'd prefer to think they dealt with it later. And just like Hotch, Dave is just such a good guy now that there's no way I could leave him on the jackass note here, so I wanted him to make amends to JJ in an amusing Dave kind of way. Making her his type was also my nod to all the JJ/Rossi shippers. In a world where something horribly tragic has happened to Will, I'm actually very okay with that ship. Though, to be clear, it won't be happening in this story :) As long as Will and JJ are happy in canon, they're happy in here. But hey, they break up onscreen, all bets are off! And I do find it ironic that both Hotch/Emily and JJ/Rossi started their relationships off on VERY sour notes. _

_Also I realized, and I just said this to Arc, I NEVER write JJ! And I like JJ, so I thought she deserved to have a chapter revolve around her. I think I got out of the habit of writing her when Emily had cancer because she was on maternity leave and it was hard to fit her into the story. But I am trying to correct that, so I'm shortly giving her a full chapter with Emily in the other story. Also, I know there was a bit more narrative in this than I usually do, and I had considered doing a whole dialogue scene with the Hotch apology to JJ, but honestly folks, I'd already hit 4000 words and didn't want to go for an epic chapter. Hope you liked it anyway though :)_

_I am posting here tomorrow, but the next couple days after that I'll probably switch to Life & Such. And good news on that front, Jack will be making an appearance shortly!_

_Next: __**"Wishing Makes It So"**_


	29. Wishing Makes It So

**Author's Note:** The one in Montana where the UNSUB blows himself up in the first five minutes and then his partner takes over his personality. This is a missing scene from the middle of the episode. The chapter is pretty introspectivey. As I looked over it there are only a few lines of actual dialogue. And Emily mentions Potomac Mills, that was the '7 Seconds' episode, specific chapter referenced below.

**Allusions**: Chp. 26 "On Days Like This"

* * *

_Episode – __Identity_

**Wishing Makes It So**

"Prentiss?"

Hearing Hotch's voice from across the room, Emily looked up to see him standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Their eyes locked for a second before he tipped his head towards the front.

"We're leaving."

Hotch's voice was soft so as not to startle the woman in front of him. And though he saw Emily dip her head in acknowledgement of his statement, she didn't move. She just looked at him for a second longer before her eyes dropped back down to the evidence bag in her hand. He could see it was one of the torture devices they had tagged earlier.

The Pear of Anguish.

Christ . . . he bit back a weary sigh . . . four hundred years since the invention of that monstrosity, and mankind hadn't moved one notch up the evolutionary ladder since. And when they'd come across it during their earlier search of the bedroom, Hotch had seen the look on Prentiss' face when Reid told her what it was. Horror, shock.

The realization that this job always had more innocence to take.

So that's why when Hotch had realized outside that she was missing from the group, he'd had a pretty good idea of where to find her. And seeing that she wasn't ready to leave yet, he stepped over the threshold, watching her from just inside the doorway.

She didn't look up again . . . and she still hadn't moved. Her eyes were just locked on that God damn bag. His teeth sunk into his lip.

God only knew what she was thinking.

After another moment had passed, Hotch moved a little further into the room. Then he softened his usual tone as he asked gently, "Prentiss, are you all right?"

She looked pale and Hotch was grateful that the plan now was to head back to the station to give the profile. He definitely wanted her out of the field for a couple hours.

Perhaps the rest of the day.

Sexual sadist rapists were bad for everyone, but he always kept an eye on JJ and Prentiss in particular with these cases. He knew the rapes hit them harder. On this one JJ seemed to be holding up all right though. But of course, he thought bitterly as the dark hair victims flashed through his mind, for once, JJ wasn't the one who was the spitting image of their board of victims.

Today that was Emily's special honor.

Her brain finally processing that Hotch had asked her a question, Emily blinked as she slowly brought her eyes back up to his.

She knew everyone was waiting on her, but she just needed a minute. Needed a minute to process what she'd seen without all of them around. Not that she had any intention of breaking down in hysterics, but the savagery specific to this case was definitely something that only a woman could truly appreciate.

Not that the guys weren't affected by what was going on . . . they were good men and she knew that this case was viscerally upsetting for them too . . . but it was too bad that JJ hadn't been there when they'd tossed the room.

Another part of Emily knew that was a selfish thought. It was bad that enough any of them had to experience these horrors, she shouldn't be wishing them on her friend. But it was just that if JJ had been there then she would have understood what Emily was feeling right now. Well . . . Emily bit her lip . . . a little of it.

More than the guys anyway.

But JJ still wouldn't have gotten the whole picture though, because part of the snapshot was unique to Emily alone. Her eyes fell back to the evidence bag in her hand.

The Pear of Anguish.

A torture device invented by some misogynistic freak to get his rocks off back in the Middle Ages. Earlier, when Reid had identified it, she'd almost dropped the damn thing like it was on fire. But now . . . her pulse ran quick and thready . . . she was transfixed by it. All of those poor women buried out in the yard and any one of them could have passed for her blood relative. And just the unimaginable agony they had endured because of this, this . . .

Her brain faltered for a word grand enough.

It settled on "thing." It was an inadequate, but at the moment all words were inadequate.

Horror like that was truly indescribable.

And though she'd been in and out of this room for almost an hour, as she looked again around the cloistered space in that moment Emily felt her skin begin to crawl.

It had all happened in this room.

A shudder went through her . . . this room that still smelled of urine, sweat, blood, feces . . . and something else.

Fear.

Many people don't realize that fear really does have a smell. It's that sickening sweet aroma given off by the surges of adrenaline that go through a body and leak out the pours when someone is writhing in agony.

Or screaming in mortal terror.

Over the months she'd been with the BAU, Emily had learned that being in a torture chamber was a three dimensional experience. And all the crime scene photos in the world couldn't convey the complete barbarity of it.

But with this case in particular . . . she shook her head . . . she felt like God was punishing her. Emily turned again, her gaze locking on the bloodied restraints under the bed.

Dear God . . . she bit her lip as her eyes stung . . . those poor women.

As she suddenly scrubbed her hands over her face to erase the unwanted images, Emily could feel Hotch's eyes on her. She knew he was waiting patiently for her to get her shit together. He was good about that, with all of them. A different chief . . . one of Strauss' lackeys for instance . . . could make this job unbearable.

And that was not a long trip.

But Hotch, he always gave them the time that they needed to get back to their center. Like right now, he wasn't pushing her to go, or to answer to his question. Because he knew . . . that by not responding right away . . . she had already given him her answer. She wasn't okay.

Not by half.

After another minute, she finally turned in his direction, a grim smile touching her lips. "Do you know what I said to myself after the Potomac Mills case?"

His brow creasing slightly, Hotch took a step closer to Emily . . . whatever this was, it wasn't going to be good.

Emily's hands slipped around the edge of the bag, and taking it by its corner, she held it up in front of him. Then she shook it.

"I said, give me a straight up sexual sadist any day over these domestics."

Hotch winced, and she nodded. "Yeah, so what do I get three weeks later? A rose garden full of dead women that could pass for my double, all raped and brutally assaulted with medieval torture devices homemade by a by the book, straight up sexual sadist." She dropped the bag in disgust, "be careful what you wish for sir," her eyes dropped down as the metal clattered on the floor.

"Because sometimes," her voice cracked, "wishing makes it so."

Feeling a wave of sympathy, Hotch bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at the woman in front of him.

Though it was his job to look after his team, at that moment he couldn't think of one frigging thing to say to her.

Maybe there wasn't anything _to_ say.

Some small part of him had foolishly hoped that maybe she hadn't noticed her resemblance to the victims. But of course, that was too much to hope for. The victimology had hit much too close to home.

If _he_ had been unsettled seeing the bodies, Hotch couldn't imagine what Emily was going through. And they weren't just speculating about what these women had endured, they were actually standing in the room where it happened.

You could smell it.

And they had videos, actual photographic evidence of their suffering. And now . . . he shook his head . . . they were going to have to go back to the station and watch these fucking slide shows from hell. He shook his head . . . and _that's_ what she had wished for after Potomac Mills. Poor Prentiss.

God . . . He did have a wicked sense of humor.

Straightening her back, Emily looked back up at Hotch, "I'm sorry for holding everyone up. I know we need to get going."

It was time to get in gear. There were things to be done.

Hotch's face softened . . . she kept her emotions close to the vest most of the time, deflecting with a joke or a smile. But occasionally she'd allow him to get a glimpse of the woman that lived behind the fortress of solitude. But it was always just a glimpse. And then she'd slip back into her 'Agent Prentiss' persona like she slipped into her vest.

He supposed one was just as necessary a piece of armament as the other.

His eyes dropped to the evidence bag on the floor, pushing it aside with his foot, he took a step closer as he shoved one of his hands into his pocket.

"I'm sorry I can't think of anything comforting to say to you Prentiss."

Looking up again he gave her a sad smile, "I know that's my job."

Emily looked over with pained expression, "it's okay sir, I didn't really expect you'd be able to make this one better."

But as she stared at him, seeing the compassion in his eyes, she understood something . . . something important.

Her features softened as her gaze dropped back to the ground and she said quietly, "it's enough that you want to."

And it was.

He had reminded her that these men that she spent her days with, they were proof that the world had evolved. It was a better place than sometimes their work allowed them to see.

She kicked the bag . . . back when this thing had been invented, the torture and abuse of women were the norm, and no man tried to stop it, and no man tried to avenge them. Even if they weren't active participants in those cruelties, they just turned a blind eye to them.

And that's the way it was for centuries.

But, Hotch and Dave and the boys, they were a testament to how far they'd come. These men devoted their lives to hunting down the same monsters that roamed the world with impunity just a few hundred years ago.

And even if they couldn't always make it right . . . they tried.

Emily looked back up, gave Hotch a small smile and tipped her head towards the door. She watched him head out with his jaw set before she glanced back one more time at this ordinary room that had become an abomination.

No . . . she shook her head . . . nothing they did now could ever make this better. So she decided that today just wanting to, trying to . . . she followed him out the door.

That would have to be enough.

* * *

_A/N 2: As a woman, and even more particularly as a woman with the same features as the victims, I was personally quite unsettled by this episode so I figured Emily had to be too. And if you want to hear something really horrific, there's a whole fetish subculture that's "into" the Pear of Anguish. So personally I come down somewhere in the middle of Hotch and Em's internal debates on our evolutionary advancements. Though I do believe that sometimes if 'fighting the good fight' is the best you can do, that's okay. There are lots of things that can't be fixed, you just have to try._

_I started to write this chapter over a month ago, but I'd put it under the wrong episode, so when I was reading it the second time it made no sense under the context I had it, and I deleted it. So, special thanks to MusicGirl101, who in a prompt made a similar comment about Emily's resemblance to the victims as maybe being a good chapter idea and I flashed on what a moron I was for getting my episodes mixed up. So even though I had to start from scratch (idiot), MusicGirl did remind me that I actually did have a real idea to begin with! This story would probably go faster if I didn't sabotage myself. _

_I posted later than I planned tonight (sorry little munchkin, I know I missed the 10 pm deadline), but good news there. I had a strike of inspiration for the next chapter, got the whole thing written, and bonus, the first draft doesn't suck. Yay! So even though I will still need to skip a day or two this week, I figure as long as I have the next one done, I might as well put it up. So I will be posting tomorrow._

_Next: __**"Cannibals and Other Things That Go Bump"**_


	30. Cannibals & Other Things That Go Bump

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know, I didn't post yesterday. Sorry. To quote Marcia Brady, something suddenly came up.

This is a missing scene from the horrific cannibal story down in Florida. Now, a little justification for what I did here. I had the idea for this scene, which takes place at night, so I watched the beginning of the ep trying to figure out where in the timeline I could stick it. Day 1 or Day 2. I always go by Emily's shirt as my guide on whether it's a new day, so Emily changes her shirt and I figure okay, this has to be Day 2, but THEN I see, Rossi didn't change his shirt! And freaking Derek wore the same purple t-shirt the whole time he was down there so he was no help! Then they still had the same clothes on when they found the girl's jeep, even though the dialogue said she went missing the day _before_. And then Garcia meets that guy and plans dinner for the next night but that didn't work either because she'd just met him and uh, my brain started to hurt and I'd realized I'd spent a good 2 minutes of my life thinking about this stuff that totally didn't matter. And look, I just made you do it too :)

Bottom line, their continuity person screwed up big time with the sequence of events here. And I'm not an uber geek about that stuff so I'd never noticed before because it didn't detract from my enjoyment of the episode. Though it was giving me a slight headache as I tried to figure out where to put my scene. Then I decided, screw it, they have things jumbled and overlapped so I can too. Hell, none of it happened anyway! So, in my mind, realistically for everything to have happened in that ep, they were in Florida for three and half days. I have this scene somewhere in there, post the girl from the jeep going missing, and post the church lady getting abducted from the search group looking for jeep girl. Just go with it :)

* * *

_Episode – __Lucky_

**Cannibals and Other Things That Go Bump**

Hotch awoke from his nightmare with a jerk, almost falling off the bed. He sat there for a moment catching his breath before looking down to see that that, with the exception of his suit jacket, he was still fully dressed and lying on top of the covers. And oh look at what's spread out in his lap . . . autopsy photos of the victim who had been fed a plateful of index fingers.

hat explained the nightmare.

He'd gone to a restaurant and there were 'lady fingers' on the menu, and of course, they were made out of REAL lady fingers. He shuddered. Uck. Nothing like a little cannibalism to ruin a perfectly good night's sleep.

Rolling his neck he checked the time . . . 2:17 a.m. He remembered they'd come back to the motel around eleven and he'd started flipping through the case files . . . but he had no idea what time he'd fallen asleep. Though, the lights were on, and . . . he blinked . . . his contacts were dry, so it must have been pretty fast.

As he got out of bed he rubbed his face and stretched before he went over to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He had that disgusting taste in his mouth, and given the subject matter of the nightmares currently playing in his own personal Cineplex, he didn't really want to go right back to sleep right away.

When he came out of the bathroom a few minutes later he wiped his hand across his mouth, realized he was thirsty and out of bottled water.

Damn.

Scrunching his brow, he vaguely recalled there being a vending machine down by the front office. Then he rolled his eyes . . . of course he was going to have to go outside to get there. They were in an older, open air style motel so all of their doors opened directly onto the parking lot.

He wasn't pleased about that at all.

They were in the middle of a freaking swampland known affectionately as 'Alligator Alley,' with a cannibal that had been hunting for God knows how long, and they had thirty year old locks on their doors, with rusty chains providing 'additional security.' He'd tried to at least get them rooms with connecting doors but they didn't have any available. So he had instructed the whole team to put a chair under their doorknob anytime they were in their room alone.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

They'd just had that woman snatched out from under them during the grid search today. So they already knew this guy was right under their noses and enjoyed playing games with them. It would be quite the coup to grab an FBI agent working the case. Hotch could feel his temple begin to twitch just at the thought of losing one of them.

Though he figured the team probably wouldn't be too pleased if he got snatched either, so he went over and grabbed his pistol off the nightstand. He slipped it back into his holster before going over to remove the chair from the door.

Hotch opened his door and stepped onto the granite pathway that ran the length of the one story motel.

He was immediately assaulted by the thick Florida air and the sounds of the insects in the swamp all around them. Crickets, cicadas and . . . something that sounded like it came from Jurassic Park. He wasn't afraid of bugs, but all the same, he'd really rather not find out what was making THAT noise.

After he did a quick scan of the immediate area for anything suspicious, he pulled his key from his pocket and turned back to lock his door. Then he began to walk the length of the building to get to the vending machines.

As he went past the rest of the team's rooms he noticed that everybody had their lights out except for Prentiss. Maybe he'd stop on the way back and make sure she didn't have a 'lady finger' dream of her own.

Just as he approached the manager's office Hotch saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye . . . and despite the heat . . . he instantly felt goose bumps break out on his flesh. Spinning around, he put his hand on the grip of his gun.

What the hell _was_ that?

Squinting, he could see on the far side of the parking lot that there was . . . something.

No, not something . . . he felt a shot of adrenaline hit his system . . . someone.

It was a person.

A person standing halfway down the grassy area that led to the swamp. Hotch ducked down and slowly slipped his gun from the holster. Crouching, he moved over to one of the parked cars, using it for cover as he tried to get a better look. But given the distance, at least thirty yards, angle, bad, and the light, worse, all he could tell was that it was human.

Damn it.

The light was the worst because it only spilled a few yards onto the grass, and the figure was standing in the shadows just beyond it. But he could clearly see . . . there was somebody there. And who the hell would be hiding in the dark in the middle of the night staring at the motel? He wasn't coming up with any possible answers besides UNSUB, general psycho, or best case scenario, garden variety burglar.

Biting the inside of his cheek he debated about going back to wake Morgan.

No. There wasn't time. And as he patted his pockets he realized that he'd left his phone in his room.

Okay . . . he huffed to himself . . . looks like you're playing cowboy Aaron.

Before he made a move, Hotch did a quick weapon check, then slid the safety off his pistol before he looked across the parking lot. There were two cars parked on the far side, he could use those for cover, and then only another ten yards between him and the UNSUB. Might as well give up all pretext of assuming it could be anybody else. Going on the presumption it _was_ a serial killer would sharpen his reflexes, which were otherwise somewhat dulled at this time of night.

He checked the lot again and realized the sodium lights lining the parking lot were going to break his cover immediately.

But there was nothing to be done about that, so as he came up from between the two parked cars, he already was at a run. Twenty seconds later, slightly winded, and perspiring heavily, both because of the God damn heat, he dropped down next to the pickup on the far side of the lot. Sliding down the length of the vehicle he peered over the hood. The figure hadn't moved. He furrowed his brow . . . that was odd.

Hotch dropped back down . . . either that guy had some serious balls, or he wasn't actually facing in the direction of the motel. Because if he had been there was no way he'd missed Hotch's twenty yard dash. Hopefully it was the latter and he'd have some element of surprise.

After giving himself one more second to catch his breath, Hotch sprinted onto the grass. As he rapidly closed the distance, the figure started to spin around and Hotch stopped short, yelling from ten feet back.

"FEDERAL AGENT! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS AND STEP INTO THE LIGHT!"

With his chest heaving, Hotch stood motionless with his site trained on the center of the mass. The figure raised its hands and took three steps. As it stepped out of the shadows, Hotch's weapon and jaw dropped simultaneously.

"PRENTISS?"

Emily doubled over in relief when she saw who it was, "JESUS CHRIST HOTCH! YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!"

Flabbergasted, for a second Hotch stood staring, and then the full impact of what he'd just done hit him. Putting his hand up to his mouth, he doubled over himself, sucking wind.

_I just pulled a gun on EMILY! Oh sweet Jesus, I almost SHOT Emily!_

As he tried to catch his breath, his terror began to morph into anger.

What the fuck was she doing out here? He'd had the jump on her, she hadn't even realized he was behind her until he was almost on top of her. Jesus Christ! What if he had been the UNSUB! She'd be the next fucking entrée right now!

Now that he'd worked himself into a righteous fury, Hotch snapped his head back up as he yelled at her, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE!"

Straightening up Emily rubbed her hand across her mouth as she started to explain, "I was getting some air . . ."

But that was all she got out as Hotch narrowed his eyes and cut her off with a coldly lethal, "I'm sorry, did you just say you were 'getting some air'?"

Emily's eyes went wide as she snapped her jaw shut. She knew that tone . . . that was a bad tone.

Oh shit.

Crossing the last few feet between them Hotch got right in Emily's face, "we are in the middle of a fucking swamp hunting a cannibalistic serial killer who just snatched a woman out from under our noses less then twelve hours ago and you," and he poked his finger furiously at her as his voice began to get louder, "are out here, in the _MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT,_ by _yourself_, getting some AIR!"

Then he looked down at her hip and his eyes flashed black, "and you don't even have your WEAPON! Are you a FUCKING **IDIOT**?"

Hearing the ferocity that came with the last words out of his mouth, Hotch stopped short as he saw Prentiss flinch and snap her eyelids shut. And with that, all the heat went out of him.

He took a breath as he closed his own eyes for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control.

Emily could feel her eyes start to sting, but she dropped her head down so he wouldn't see as she quickly tried to blink the tears away.

She was a big girl, she wasn't going to cry just because her boss yelled at her. But . . . wow . . . that was bad. Hotch hadn't reamed her out for anything since that stupid fight they'd had when she first started. She thought that had been bad, but that was nothing compared to what had just happened.

God, she didn't even know what to say. She was afraid if she opened her mouth he'd start yelling again.

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him that angry, but those other times it was directed at somebody else, and generally that person had deserved it. Somehow she'd thought she was immune . . . she felt a burn in her chest . . . it really hurt to find out that she wasn't.

Hotch looked back over at her staring at the ground. He bit his lip before he called her name softly, "Prentiss."

When she looked up, Hotch could see her eyes were glistening and he felt a stab in his chest. For a second he honestly couldn't remember why he was so angry. And then it came back to him . . . she'd scared the shit out of him.

He almost . . . almost . . . he felt his eyes burn as looked down at the gun he was still holding in his left hand. His voice broke as he stared at the pistol, "Prentiss I almost _shot_ you."

Emily's eyes widened and then dropped to his hip where he was slowly re-holstering his weapon. His hand was shaking.

Oh my God . . . she put her hand up to her mouth . . . no wonder he was so upset!

When she looked back up at him Emily felt her eyes watering, "I'm sorry. I didn't see . . . I didn't know."

Rubbing the tears out of his eyes Hotch nodded, "yeah . . . just," he shook his head, "let's just forget it."

Hotch very much wanted to erase that moment from his mind, and he certainly never wanted to speak of it again.

Then he sighed as he looked back down at her, "seriously Prentiss, what the hell are you doing out here by yourself?" He looked down, "you don't even have any shoes on."

Emily wearily shook her head, "I don't know sir. I just . . . had a nightmare about those God damn fingers."

She tried to shake off the disturbing images, and as she shuddered, Hotch winced slightly in sympathy, wondering if her nightmare had been as bad as his had been.

Then she took a breath as she continued, "anyway, I only stepped outside for a minute to get some air. And I must have still been half asleep because I didn't even think to grab my gun. And then I was outside and I noticed how clear the sky was. You can see so many more stars than you can at home."

When she looked up, Hotch followed her gaze . . . she was right . . . it was beautiful. And he could see how it would be distracting.

Dropping her eyes, Emily continued, "so I started looking at the constellations. I just wanted to replace the pictures in my head, and then I guess I must have moved into the parking lot to see better and . . . I don't know," she rubbed her hand down her face, "the next thing I know . . . I heard someone coming up behind me." She looked over at him sadly, "I really am sorry Hotch. I know it was beyond stupid. I just . . . I didn't plan it . . . it just happened."

Hotch looked at her for a second before he rubbed his hand across his mouth, "all right, no harm done. Let's just go back to bed." Tipping his head towards the swamp he wisely pointed out, "this is really no place to be hanging around any time of day."

They were in Alligator Alley for Christ's sake. He glanced back nervously towards the marshy water, it was probably named that for a good reason.

Relieved he wasn't angry with her any more, Emily nodded and stepped in beside him as they walked back across the grass.

As they moved onto the gravel of the parking lot, she turned to him, perplexed, "Hotch what made you even come out here?"

He shook his head, "I had a nightmare and I was going to the vending machines to get a drink." Glancing down, he gave her a droll look, "though unlike you I _brought_ my gun."

Emily gave him a little smile and his eyes crinkled slightly in return. She was happy that he had forgiven her so quickly for not only being a Class A Moron, but also giving him a heart attack. Yeah, he'd scared the hell out of her, but she knew that had to have seriously sucked for him when he realized he had a hot weapon pointed at one of his agents. She looked over sympathetically as Hotch finished his story, "and then I saw a figure on the grass," he rolled his neck, "fortunately it was you and not the UNSUB."

At his last words, Emily halted mid-step as the full impact of what she'd just done hit her.

That woman had been taken from the search party with her husband not ten feet away. And the UNSUB had taken her just to prove that he could. This guy could easily be stalking them too. If Hotch hadn't gone out to get a drink . . . she could have ended up getting fed somebody's fingers.

Just like in her nightmare.

Oh God! Feeling her stomach flip Emily clamped her hand over her mouth and ran to the trash barrel a few feet away, emptying what little was in her stomach. A second later she felt Hotch's hand ghost over her back, "Prentiss are you all right?"

Stepping back from the barrel, she put her hand up to her mouth and nodded, "yeah, I'm okay. I just, um got a nice flash on how my evening would have ended if that hadn't been you that ran up behind me." Looking up at him she shook her head, "man that would have SUCKED!"

Hotch's mouth twitched slightly, "yes Prentiss, getting abducted by a serial killer and being force fed human flesh most definitely would fall under the category of things that 'sucked'." Prentiss' lip quirked up at his gentle teasing, and as he looked at her, Hotch sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the Man upstairs that he hadn't accidentally put a bullet in her chest.

Shaking his head to clear that image from his mind, he gave her a little smile, "come on, I'll buy you a ginger ale. It'll settle your stomach."

They crossed the parking lot and headed directly for the vending machines where Hotch bought two cans of ginger ale for the bargain price of $1.10.

Emily's theory was that the vending machines were installed with the locks back in 1978. She tapped the machine, "after all sir, how often do you see RC Cola sold anywhere in the twenty first century?"

As he pocketed his change, Hotch shot her a glare, "are you bad mouthing RC Cola Prentiss? That was my favorite drink when I was a kid." Emily's lips twitched as they started walking back towards their rooms, "no sir, not bad mouthing, just making an observation."

Hotch gave her a look and then popped open his soda, sucking down half the can. He'd wanted a drink when he woke up twenty minutes ago, since then he'd gone for a run, almost shot one of his agents, and then took a casual stroll around the parking lot. All in ninety degree heat even though it was pitch black outside. He was now sweaty, and parched, and realizing he probably should have bought a second soda for himself.

Actually . . . he stopped . . . that was a good idea. He handed his ginger ale to Prentiss, muttering, "one sec," before jogging back the ten feet to buy one of the RC Colas that he probably wouldn't see again in his lifetime.

Emily watched Hotch counting out his change and leaned back against the siding, taking a sip of her own soda as she waited for him. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she saw him come back a few seconds later with the blue can. Pushing herself off the building she grinned as she handed him back his ginger ale, "nice choice sir."

He rubbed the can of cola on his forehead as he responded drolly, "thank you Prentiss that means a lot coming from an RC hater such as yourself."

Emily chuckled and was about to respond when suddenly one of the doors ahead of them whipped open and Dave came stumbling out. He had his gun in his hand but it was pointed at the ground.

He looked blearily at the two of them, "I heard voices." He rubbed his face, "what the hell are you two doing wandering outside in the middle of the night?"

Hotch held up his ginger ale, "sorry we woke you Dave. We were thirsty." Rossi stared at them for a second and then shook his head as he stepped back into his room grumbling to himself, "thirsty at three in the morning . . . supposed to be sleeping," and then he slammed the door shut.

As they continued down the sidewalk Emily looked up at Hotch, "thanks for that." He flicked his eyes over to her, "yeah, well nobody else needs to know," he gave her a pointed look, "it's not like you're going to make a habit of star gazing at three am, right?"

Emily huffed, "no sir I'm not." As they stopped at her door Emily began patting her pants for her keys, then she realized she was wearing her pajamas and didn't have any pockets.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she whipped her head up to look at Hotch, "uh oh."

Raising a suspicious eyebrow, Hotch said slowly, "uh oh what?"

Wincing, Emily braced herself for more yelling, "uh oh I think I left my door unlocked."

Hotch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he'd already yelled at her for wandering around unarmed, and that this was still just part of the same overall lapse in judgment when she first walked out the door without her pistol. Therefore there was absolutely nothing to be gained by raising his voice again.

Decision made that there had been enough yelling for one night, when he opened his eyes Hotch calmly handed her his soda. Then he gave her a look as he put his hand on her doorknob, "wait here."

Now juggling three cans, Emily looked over at him surprised, "you're not going to yell at me again?"

He looked back at her as he said drolly, "I can if you want me to."

She shook her head vehemently, "no, no that's okay. Just checking."

Wow. Apparently that earlier screamfest was offering some immunity right now. Because really, any other day an unlocked door would have been worthy of at least a three minute lecture.

Hotch rolled his eyes as she pressed herself back against the wall so he could do a quick sweep of her room. Once she was clear he turned his attention to her door again, putting his hand on the grip of his sig, he slowly turned the knob and let the door swing open. Fortunately she'd left the lights on so he could see the main room was clear and nothing looked out of order.

Plus he could see her pistol still sitting on her nightstand so it was very unlikely that anybody had been in there.

But he did a quick search anyway, checking the closet, under the bed and behind the shower curtain. Twenty seconds later he called out, "all clear," and Prentiss stepped through the doorway, her eyes immediately searching out her weapon. Hotch could see her breathe a sigh of relief that it was still there.

Once she located her gun, Emily flicked her gaze over to Hotch as she rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, "again . . ."

He put his hand up, "just forget it." Nodding her thanks she held out his sodas, and Hotch came to take them out of her hands. He started to head for the door, but then he stopped and turned back as he caught her eyes, "I'm sorry I called you a fucking idiot."

Emily shrugged, "it's okay, I was a fucking idiot."

Hotch tipped his head, considering her statement. Finally he nodded, "true," then he furrowed his brow, "okay, so maybe I'm not sorry about that. But," he looked over apologetically, "I didn't actually have to _scream_ the words at you. That was, ah . . . harsh."

He knew harsh was a bit of an understatement for the amount of vitriol he'd spewed at her for essentially just taking a walk. It was dumb, there was no doubt about that. But if she had been just a regular guest of the motel, rather than well . . . HER, he wouldn't have been nearly so upset to find her outside by herself in the middle of the night.

Mostly he'd been horrified at the realization that he could have shot her. But also, it was another reminder that just like with Reid and JJ splitting up outside Henkel's house, at any time, any one of them could make a simple, _human_ mistake and the result could be catastrophic.

And looking over at Prentiss, barefoot, in her polka dot pajamas, he didn't know if he could survive _another_ catastrophe like that.

Remembering the sting of his tirade, Emily looked at Hotch for a second as she considered the apology. Though she knew now that those words had come from a place of fear . . . still . . . it had sucked. And as they had an honest relationship she bit her lip as she looked down and murmured, "yeah, that kind of hurt my feelings a little bit."

Hotch rubbed the back of his neck . . . and THERE comes his old friend Guilt again. Though he knew she hadn't said that to make him feel badly, she was just honest to a fault. But he didn't want to wallow in this, he just wanted to put it behind them. So to that end, he did what she would do if their positions were reversed.

He made a joke.

"You're not gonna cry about it are you?"

Emily whipped her head up indignantly, but seeing Hotch's mouth quiver, she knew that he was just teasing. So she smirked back at him, "no sir, I'm not going to CRY about it."

Hotch flashed a dimple, "that's good because I already bought you a ginger ale. Tears aren't going to get you any more treats."

She smiled, "understood sir. That's good to know because I was planning on using my feminine wiles to stock up on a whole case of free soda." Hotch's lips twitched for a second and then he raised an amused brow, "all right, I'm leaving." He narrowed his gaze, "go to bed. And no more wandering around outside by yourself unarmed," then he shot her a glare as he stepped out, "that's an order."

He was pretty sure that was the first time he'd every 'ordered' someone to bed.

Emily nodded contritely as she leaned around the closing door she was rapidly shutting in his face, "yes, sir."

As the latch clicked shut Emily could hear Hotch's muffled voice from the other side, "lock it Prentiss." Chuckling, she flipped the lock and pulled the chain. Then she leaned against the door she called back, "all set."

"Did you put the chair under the door?" He whispered back.

Hotch gave her a second to answer him and then called out, "Prentiss?" She came back in a hushed tone, "sorry sir, I was pushing the bed against the door. It was bolted to the floor so it took me a second."

His head dropped to his chest before Hotch muttered an exasperated, "good _night_ Prentiss."

As she slipped the chair under the doorknob Emily called back sweetly, "good night sir."

* * *

_A/N 2: Kudos to TFM for the "stars" prompt that put the idea for this chapter in my head. I told her it really put me in mind of that starlight discussion from the X Files. The one where Scully tells Skinner that Mulder believes that's where souls reside. Great scene, great dialogue, and I really wanted to steal it verbatim, but I'm afraid enough of you have seen the show that somebody would have called me on my blatant plagiarism. I was originally going to have Hotch come outside, find her looking at the constellations and they'd have a discussion about them. But then I liked the idea of him almost shooting her even better, so I had to have Emily go back and leave her gun in her room and then wander out of the parking lot where I had her initially. Without those two changes, this would have been a TOTALLY different chapter :) _

_I think this is the first time I've written them outside. It was nice working with a 'fresh canvas.' I can actually DESCRIBE something nobody's seen before! It's stifling writing them on the jet all the time. You'll notice when we get to the AU, comparatively speaking, there's very little jet conversation. I was ready to torch the damn thing._

_And I know I haven't touched on the divorce in a little bit but these last few cases have been a little too intense to have Hotch ACTIVELY distracted with the Haley situation. But after Garcia gets shot, Hotch's personal problems will definitely ramp up culminating in a very ugly scene with Haley just prior to the trip to the prison with Reid. Then after that, we'll call in Humpty Dumpty's crew to start putting him back together again. Things work out slightly better for Mr. Hotchner than they did Mr. Dumpty. Though he's still a bit of a mess, so as we FINALLY move into the AU, our slightly fractured, more than a little gun shy hero, will slowly connect with, and fall in love with, our fair, ass kicking maiden. Though you do see, starting here, that Emily's sense of humor is starting to rub off on him a little. Though their exchanges can often be amusing, that's more because Hotch is the straight foil to Emily being Emily. Usually Hotch himself is just funny in his head. But, henceforth he will be allowed on a rare occasion, to make a joke or two of his own. _

_Posting on the other story tomorrow. The next chapter over there will be PG rated, I promise :) I'll be back here on Thursday or Friday._

_Next: __**"Next of Kin"**_


	31. Next of Kin

**Author's Note:** I know Garcia was out of surgery by like the first commercial break, but in reality, that had to have been at LEAST a 4-6 hr surgery. Probably much longer. But given that Morgan showed up just as she came out, I went on the very conservative side and figured he was missing for 3-4 hrs at the church. So this is a missing scene from somewhere in that earlier time frame before Hotch and Rossi put on their sleuthing hats and went to the crime scene.

And quick note: Chapter 30, I reposted it like an hour after I first put it up. I actually read the online version (which I never do) and noticed a really awkward scene transition from them at the swamp, to her getting sick. So I added a half dozen lines to flesh it out, and as long as I was in there I cleaned up the few glaringly obvious verb tense issues in the other parts of the chapter. I don't remember being drunk when I edited but, hey, who knows! So, if you read the chapter when the alert FIRST went out, there's a better version up now. At least I think so :)

* * *

_Episode – __Penelope_

**Next of Kin**

Hotch anxiously paced the length of the hospital waiting room.

The doctor had just privately pulled him aside and said to "prepare himself." Well, he didn't want to "prepare" himself! He wanted them to do their damn jobs and patch up the hole in her chest! He rubbed his temple.

Grgh!

He felt like he should be doing something . . . or calling somebody. But with the exception of Morgan, who they still hadn't reached, the people in this room were all the family Garcia had.

His brow creased . . . that was sad. A woman gets shot and the first person who's called . . . the only person that _could_ be notified as next of kin . . . is her boss. Not that he wouldn't have come immediately anyway . . . but still.

Though Hotch knew that his own life was in a bit of a shambles, if something happened to him he still had a family that could be called in an emergency. And as he looked around the room at the members of his team that were present, he knew that was true of all of them.

He watched Reid tapping his foot to some manic beat that only he could hear. Spencer actually didn't have much family outside the team, but he did have his mother. And though she was ill, Hotch had seen during her visit last year that it was clear that she loved him, and that she would be devastated if something happened to him.

Everybody should have _someone_ in his life who would be devastated if he died.

Hotch was sure the world would be a better place if everyone was loved at least that much . . . he huffed humorlessly to himself . . . it might actually put him out of business.

Leaving Spencer to his foot tapping, Hotch's gazed switched to the man sitting next to him. Their newest, and oldest addition, Dave. Now that he had smoothed things over with JJ, and toned down his ego, he had been accepted as part of the group by everyone. Even . . . Hotch had noticed on the plane ride home . . . Morgan.

And Rossi . . . who had only known Garcia for a couple of months . . . had actually broken out his rosary. And watching him work the small pink beads like a talisman made Hotch's eyes sting.

You didn't pray over someone like that unless the situation was dire. But Hotch didn't want the situation to be dire, he wanted it to be okay.

And looking at Rossi made it not okay.

So in trying to distract himself from truths he didn't want to face, Hotch made himself run down Dave's emergency contact list in his head.

Then his eyes crinkled slightly . . . that's right . . . all three ex-wives. That glorious bastard had all three of his exes listed even though each one hated him more than the last. And when Hotch had raised an amused eyebrow at the form, Dave said it was because it would make them happy to see him in distress, and then he'd winked, telling Hotch he put them through so much grief that it was the least he could do for them. But Hotch also knew Dave's mother was still alive, and he had a brother and four married sisters up in New York. So there were plenty of people, beyond the not so grief stricken exes, that would care if he was hurt.

Hotch's eyes traveled then across the room to his two female agents. His expression immediately softened.

The girls.

JJ had been crying quietly almost since they'd arrived. And Prentiss, she was just sitting next to her on the couch rubbing her back.

She hadn't left her side in an hour.

And though they couldn't be more different in appearance, their loyalties were those of sisters. Maybe because neither of them had one of their own. JJ had three brothers, and Prentiss, she was an only child. But she'd clearly adopted the younger members of the team as surrogate siblings, and she protected them as fiercely as if they were blood.

Hotch eyes crinkled slightly . . . Prentiss getting assigned to spy on him had been the best thing that had happened to the BAU in years. And watching her lean over to pass JJ another tissue, he realized how odd it was that with two such beautiful women, neither of them were married, or even had a boyfriend.

Though . . . his eyes scanned the room again before flashing on Garcia and Morgan . . . none of them did.

Six intelligent, attractive people and not one of them had a spouse, a lover or significant other to call in an emergency. Hell, right now he wasn't so sure that Haley didn't fall into the same category as Dave's exes, so he guessed he'd have to up that number to seven people. He felt a weight on his chest as he wondered if they had all understood going in how much this job would take from them.

He didn't used to think about his team like that.

He worried that they were safe, but before he'd never worried about whether they were happy. His own family being ripped away from him had provided a new perspective on what was important to make a person feel fulfilled. And he realized now, possibly too late, that their work, as important as it was . . . it wasn't enough.

Over the years when he'd gone through this horrible waiting game at the hospital, and there had been more times than he cared to remember, he'd known he had Haley to go home to, but now . . . there was no one. This was why he'd been so upset with Prentiss yesterday.

He blinked.

God, was it only yesterday . . . it seemed like weeks ago. But he'd known then, when he thought about what could have happened to her, he was no condition to go through this again. To go through it _alone_. Even if he had kept Haley on the periphery of this part of his life, at the end of the day . . . she was always there for him. Some respite and comfort to escape this part of his life, and he didn't have that anymore. He felt like somebody socked him in the stomach.

He literally didn't have ANYONE anymore.

Wow. That was a suck ass realization, and this was a horrible cloistered little place to have it in. He scrubbed his hand down his face . . . he needed to get out of here.

Maybe some air would help. So without a word to anyone, he turned and headed for the double doors at the end of the hall.

*/*/*/*/*/

Emily's eyes flicked over to the doors Hotch had just passed through.

She was worried about him. Well, Garcia was her overriding concern obviously, and then JJ, Emily ran her hand down her back. But Hotch, she didn't know how much more he could take. This had been a bad year for him. For all of them really, but he'd taken more personal licks than the rest of them had. Having his wife and child leave had been a terrible blow. And though he never talked about it, she sensed things weren't progressing well in getting them back. He seemed sad and distracted. If something happened to Garcia she really wasn't sure if that wouldn't be the straw that broke him.

She looked up expectantly as the scrub nurse came into the room.

But . . . her expression fell . . . nothing new. Things were still "touch and go," as they had been for an hour. So Dave thanked her for the group and then went back to his rosary. Emily hadn't done a rosary in over twenty years . . . not since Rome. But she kind of wished she had one now. Though she had her reasons for leaving the Church, dogma wasn't one of them. And she did still find the rituals to be a comfort.

She supposed that's why they had endured.

As she tapped her finger angxiously against her leg, Emily wondered if she should try Morgan again and leave another update. Then she realized there really was no point . . . there was nothing new to say.

_'Hey, your best friend is STILL fighting for her life, thought you might want to know.' _

Yeah, they'd left a half dozen of those messages already. And they had called twice that many times. She knew as soon as he saw the number of missed calls alone that he'd realize something terrible had happened. So there was nothing else to be done about Morgan right now.

But she had to do SOMETHING, she hated to leave JJ but her own nervous energy was starting to build up. Reid's foot tapping was driving her crazy but she didn't have the heart to ask him to stop. Maybe she'd go get some coffee for everyone. Yeah, coffee sounds good.

She cleared her throat softly to get Rossi's attention, and when he looked up she tipped her head towards the door and then flicked her eyes back to JJ. In response he gave a nearly imperceptible nod and Emily leaned over to whisper to JJ that she was going to the cafeteria.

As Emily headed down the hall a second later, she looked back to see Dave had taken her place at their media liaison's side. JJ's eyes were still leaking but she was now resting her head on Rossi's arm. Emily saw Dave pat her knee before he pulled out his rosary again, so Emily was sure he would keep an eye on her while she was gone.

Though Emily knew JJ to be a capable agent and considered her a good friend . . . and there was only a decade between them . . . sometimes Emily felt _so_ much older. Like she was JJ's mother or an older sister and she'd been brought into her life to look after her. And on those rare occasions like tonight where JJ really did need her, Emily embraced the sense of distance and the need to feel useful.

Everyone needed to be needed. And right now it was a coping mechanism helping to distract her from her main concern.

Emily started to head towards the cafeteria but then remembered there was a Starbucks around the corner. The coffee would be better and she really could use a little break from sitting vigil. It had been a couple hours and her muscles were starting to cramp.

When she stepped out the front door she took a deep breath and held it for a moment. The warm fall breeze filling her lungs and replacing the cold sterile air that had been recirculating through her bronchial tubes and alveoli for the past two hours. As she released her breath she thought about the word, 'recirculating' and her eyes began to burn.

That's what the bypass machine was doing to Garcia's blood. It was the only thing keeping her alive.

Leaning over for a second, she rubbed her eyes.

No tears, if she started then she wouldn't stop, and then she'd be of no use to JJ. And she needed to be strong for JJ more than she needed a good cry. Crying could come later, though hopefully by then they'd have good news and they'd be happy tears.

As she started to walk down the block, she thought about a BBC article she'd read that said scientists had concluded the chemical makeup of happy tears was different than that of sad tears. Sad ones released toxins from your body. She scrunched her eyebrow, hmm, maybe she should cry more often. Releasing toxins from your body seemed like it was probably a good thing.

Eh . . . she shook her head . . . if she cried every time she saw something sad she'd be bawling her eyes out every day on the job. Hotch would have her in a straight jacket within a week.

No, she decided better to bottle them up and cross her fingers that she wouldn't go radioactive one day. She checked her watch, and realizing then how late it was and hoping that Starbucks was even still open. Though they were smack dab between a hospital and a university, they could certainly sustain late night business.

And sure enough, as she approached the store front she could see lights on inside.

Standing on the sidewalk for a moment, she squinted through the glass . . . oh . . . that's where Hotch went. She'd assumed maybe he'd gone off to make some calls but it looks like he'd just needed to take a break too. Stepping inside the coffee shop, she bypassed the counter and headed directly over to the couch where he was sitting, dropping down next to him.

She sighed, "hi."

"Hi."

Hotch wasn't surprised to see her, he figured sooner or later somebody would go for a coffee run and it would either be her or Reid. He had been planning to bring some back for them.

Leaning forward, he ran his finger around the lid of his cup, "any news?" He knew he needed to get back up there, he had just wanted a few minutes to himself. He figured Starbucks with its faux homey touches would be the best place for retreat.

With a shake of her head, Emily leaned back against the cushion, "no, the nurse came out and said its still touch and go," she sighed, "I just needed to take a walk."

After putting his cup down on the table, Hotch leaned back next to her.

"Yeah," he nodded, "me too."

Then they were silent for a moment, listening to the music being piped softly through the speakers. Hotch didn't know what it was, but it was pretty. He tipped his head slightly towards Prentiss.

"You've been really good with JJ."

Emily smiled softly, "thanks, but it's not entirely altruistic. If I keep myself busy with her then I'm distracted from my biggest worry," her voice cracked, "whether Garcia's heart will keep beating."

She berated herself . . . good job breaking the no crying rule Em! But wow, that had come out of nowhere. And that was the inherent problem with trying to jam a lid on your emotions, sometimes they boiled over at the most inopportune times.

Like in the middle of a Starbucks while you're talking to your boss.

The southerner in Hotch couldn't stand to see a woman crying without trying to do something about it. Couple that with it being Prentiss, and he had the immediate desire to go out and buy her a pony. Anything to make her stop crying. It had hurt him to watch JJ and at least then he knew Prentiss was taking care of her, but he was flying solo now. So even though he wasn't much of a 'toucher' he immediately reached over and picked up her hand, trying to reassure her as he said soothingly, "don't worry, she'll be okay."

As she wiped her other hand across her cheek, Emily sniffled miserably, "you can't know that."

It was sweet that he said it, but they both knew it wasn't necessarily true.

That was true . . . Hotch realized . . . he couldn't know for sure. But one thing he did know was that if it meant sparing someone pain, sometimes a lie, even a transparent one, was better than the truth. So he squeezed Prentiss' fingers as he said firmly, "of course I can. You know I run a tight ship and I assure you, I haven't given her permission to go anywhere."

Then he leaned forward and picked up a napkin from the table before he turned to look at Prentiss for the first time since she'd sat down.

As her sad wet eyes flicked over to his, he gave her a small smile, "as it is I might have to write her up for taking this unscheduled time off." Emily looked down for a second, before looking back up and giving him a watery smile, "when she wakes up I'm going to tell her you said that."

He tipped his head, "I have no doubt that you will. Now here," he passed her the napkin, "wipe your face, you look like a raccoon." Emily gave a surprised snort at the joke, Hotch wasn't much for joking in serious situations. Or for that matter, telling blatant falsehoods about things he had no control over. But it was obvious he was trying to keep her spirits up so he'd made an effort for her sake. For a second Emily flashed on Haley, wondering if she understood what a truly good guy he was, and if she did, what kind of a moron was she for leaving him. She banished the thought as she gave him a little nod of thanks . . . it wasn't her business. Then she turned her attention to cleaning up her runny mascara.

Hotch had been relieved he'd been able to pull her from her dark thoughts. At least he'd been able to do something useful, because he'd been feeling pretty use_less_ for the past couple hours. Waiting and wondering . . . it was torture. He was pretty sure he'd rather be the one undergoing surgery than the one waiting to hear.

As Emily crumpled up the napkin she noticed Hotch hadn't let go of her hand yet. In fact, he'd just wound his fingers tightly through hers. She bit her lip, poor Hotch. Nobody ever thought that he needed any reassurance or solace, they just greedily took it _from_ him and gave him nothing in return. He was so stoic, and so guarded with his emotions, that sometimes you could believe that he really was an invincible pillar of strength. But he wasn't. Maybe in the past he had been. Back when he had his family for support, and Gideon to share part of the load. But now, he had become just like the rest of them.

Somebody who had a hellish job, and nobody to go home to at night.

She scooted a little closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body, and knowing he could feel the same from hers. Maybe, if he'd let her, she could play Hotch for him for just a few minutes. Let him take a break from being the strong one. God knows she owed him for all the times he'd been there for her over the past year. Hell he'd given that to all of them, Morgan's arrest, Reid's addiction, so many times he'd put himself out there and asked nothing in return. And they had a couple minutes until they had to get back . . . she squeezed his fingers . . . so she'd be happy to sit and be here for him.

When he looked down, Hotch saw that he was still holding Emily's hand. How did that happen?

And even though he was now aware that he was doing it, he realized he didn't want to let go. He'd picked it up for her sake, but now . . . he was holding onto it for his own. And even though she'd stopped crying and had pulled herself back together, she wasn't pulling it away.

In fact she was sliding slightly closer to him and her hair was now brushing his shoulder. She was perceptive, she must have known he needed this . . . this connection before he himself had. Just like he'd been thinking earlier, yesterday he'd looked at Prentiss and had come to the conclusion that he couldn't survive losing one of them. And now, here they were waiting to find out as Prentiss herself had said . . . if Garcia's heart would start beating again.

That was an awful thought. An awful image.

Garcia was so full of life that he couldn't imagine that it was possible for it to all drain out of her. He began to feel a melancholy settle over him . . . he didn't know if he could go to work and not see her ridiculous troll pens, or have her say something completely inappropriate on a speaker phone in the middle of some police station in Nebraska. Hotch lived in a world of black and white, good and bad, but Garcia . . . she was the color in his day.

Without her, their world would be grey.

His breath caught, and for a second he was truly afraid he was going to cry. He hadn't cried, really cried, since he was a young boy. And then he'd gotten a little older and learned, crying only made it worse.

And he sure as hell didn't want to start sobbing in a freaking Starbucks in front of one of his agents!

But he remembered that sensation, he felt that horrible wave pressing on his chest, and he was absolutely terrified he was going to lose it. He prayed . . . come on God give me a break. And then like an answered prayer, Prentiss tipped her head over to his shoulder . . . and it took a second . . . but the wave rolled back and suddenly he could breathe again.

All he had needed to push off the despair was a reminder that he wasn't alone, because not twenty minutes ago he'd come to the conclusion that he was . . . and she'd just proved him wrong. Prentiss might not have known what she'd done, but he still squeezed her hand in gratitude. And if she had done it on purpose, then he was more grateful for that small act of compassion than he could ever say.

Emily inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Hotch's aftershave and Hotch himself. It was a comforting smell that she'd grown quite fond of working in close quarters over the past year. Originally she thought it was just that he smelled nice, which he did, but she'd come to realize it was more than that.

She associated the scent with a feeling of safety.

Being with Hotch meant she was safe. Even when they were kicking down doors, his presence gave her a confidence that everything would be okay.

She got the same sensation when she smelled Morgan too.

Though . . . her eyes crinkled slightly . . . that was a different smell entirely. But, they were very different men. Though in many ways they were very similar . . . neither of them would ever admit that they needed any help. They were big and strong and could leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Morgan sometimes literally.

But when she'd felt Hotch tense up, she knew in that moment that he was struggling. Struggling to be strong, struggling just to be Hotch. So she did what he had done for her a moment ago . . . extended a metaphorical hand to pull him back up. It was the least she could do.

Emily's ears perked up as Hotch cleared his throat.

"Do you know what this song is?"

Her gaze dropped down to their joined hands as she whispered back, "_'Do What You Have To Do'_ by Sarah McLachlan."

She loved this song, it was reason she'd bought that album. They sat in silence as the notes ended and then Hotch gave a resigned sigh, "we should probably get back."

Emily knew he wasn't ready to go . . . all of his armor wasn't back in place yet. And he was going to need it tonight because as soon as they got word on Garcia she knew that he'd be hitting the streets to find out who had done this to her. So for his sake, she shook her head, brushing her cheek against his jacket as she said firmly, "not yet. One more song."

His eyes crinkled slightly at her insistence before he said softly, "okay . . . one more song."

As the next melody came on, Hotch remembered it from that Nicholas Cage movie. What was it called?

And then it came to him, and his expression softened.

Angel.

He dropped his head to side, resting his temple against hers.

"Thanks Prentiss," he whispered.

Emily squeezed Hotch's fingers as she murmured back, "anytime sir . . . anytime."

* * *

_A/N 2: You have no idea how giddy I was to make a Nicolas Cage reference! I just happened to be listening to Sarah MacLachlan when I was writing this, so she became my music theme, and I realized Angel was the perfect song to come up next, and then the planets aligned and it popped back into my head where I'd first heard Angel. I should say for those of you who haven't read The Hours (I know there are 1 or 2 of you) that there's a running joke over there about Hotch's "obsession" with Nicolas Cage. Ah, the poor bastard, I give him no peace on this issue._

_I don't know when I'll be able to post on this again. Hopefully later this weekend but right now I have NOTHING for True Night. And I do mean nothing, nada. Not an idea, not a line of dialogue. It is literally the ONLY episode left in the season that I don't have anything written for, and that kind of blows because, well, it's up next. The one decent angle to cover - UNSUBS who were victims, Emily already discussed it with Rossi and I don't want to rehash it with Hotch. It's lazy, and really borderline obsessive on her part. Any ideas are welcome, and reviews do help the muse folks. As I've said before, it's just like Tinkerbell and the clapping. It keeps her alive._

_Next: __**?**_


	32. Heathcliff, Romeo & Mr Darcy

**Author's Note:** I'm back. I would have been back like 6 hours ago but my parents randomly showed up for dinner. This chapter was exhausting, I told somebody I just lowered the bar to 'not sucking' and went from there. Hopefully I've met my new standard of excellence!

So, post ep on the plane, picks up a few moments after Rossi and Emily's discussion about UNSUBs who aren't really bad guys. And I got this idea because, though this is not one of my favorite episodes, I was struck by the last scene in the mental hospital where he's listening to the voicemail messages. Improbable though it was, I thought it was sad that he was just so . . . broken, so Emily's thoughts spin off from my take on that image.

* * *

_Episode – __True Night_

**Heathcliff, Romeo and Mr. Darcy**

Emily scowled in irritation.

She was hoping Rossi would have been able to give her some BS reasoning to make her feel better. But unfortunately he couldn't provide any reassurance that they weren't all capable under the right circumstances of going down that same hellish rabbit hole that Johnny McHale had.

Though . . . she wrinkled her brow . . . what were the RIGHT circumstances? They would of course be different for everyone, but in this instance Emily believed McHale's psychotic break was at least partly precipitated by his love for his girlfriend. Because the PTSD could have manifested itself in any number of ways, but for him it had mined a rage that came out as seeking vengeance for her brutal assault and murder.

Emily privately felt his vengeance was more than justified. Now of course those were just her personal feelings on the matter. Officially, as a law enforcement officer she knew what he did was wrong, and that he needed to be stopped. But she understood the rage. And knew in her heart that put in his position, she probably would not have waited for an imperfect justice system to handle things for her either.

Of course Emily was not planning to share that viewpoint with Hotch anytime soon. Given her understanding of the prior situation with Elle Greenaway, she knew he was opposed pretty much on principle to mowing down UNSUBs. Which obviously Emily was as well.

But an attack on your family was different.

And Emily had a feeling that if push came to shove there wasn't much Hotch himself wouldn't do either to avenge a gruesome violation of someone he loved. He may be stoic, with his training as an attorney always harkening him back to the letter of the law, but she knew he still felt things very deeply . . . and he had a wicked temper.

Hell would have nothing on the fury that would be unleashed if Hotch's temper ever really let go.

Generally revenge killings are cold and ruthlessly efficient. You only have once chance . . . you can't screw it up. But the difference with someone like Hotch, or Morgan, or herself, who . . . under unfathomable circumstances could possibly commit an execution in the name of a loved one . . . was different than what had happened with Johnny McHale. That's where the madness comes in. He had _eviscerated_ those men.

That's something deeper . . . more primal that the PTSD tapped into. And once it hit that nerve, the man that he was before ceased to exist. He became a creature from one of his novels. So maybe . . . if he _hadn't_ loved her so much . . . he wouldn't have become the monster that he did. Wow. That was a double edged sword. People search their entire lives for their soul mate, Emily was still looking for hers, and that could be the one person that can cause you to eventually snap and descend into a blinding, senseless, madness.

Eh . . . she shook her head . . . she didn't want to think about that anymore. That whole line of thought was too upsetting.

Though . . . she glanced back over to Dave who was staring out the window . . . it did raise a unique opportunity to mine a little more data on their newest team member. And a somewhat lighter change in topic would be good to settle her stormy thoughts. Emily cleared her throat to get Dave's attention and when he looked up she tipped her head.

"Hey Rossi, have you ever loved anyone that much?"

Confused by the seemingly abrupt change in topic from the last thing they had discussed, Dave raised his eyebrow, "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question."

Generally Rossi could follow non-linear leaps in logic, but Emily could, on occasion, throw him a curve ball.

She smiled, "have you ever had a great love? Someone that there was a point that you could have gone all Romeo or," she shrugged, "in this instance Charles Bronson, if you lost them."

Leaning back Dave put his hands behind his head, "ah, the great love of your life question," he smirked, "I'm sure it will come as no surprise that none of the exes made the cut." Emily huffed as Dave continued with a nostalgic sigh, "the great love of my life is Rosalie Bonariggo."

Emily's eyes sparkled, "hmmm, and who, pray tell, is Rosalie Bonariggo?"

Rossi wistfully stared into space, "a lost love my dear . . . a lost love." Pausing for a moment, he thought back, "I met Rosalie when I was in college. She was a waitress at a diner I frequented a few times a week. She had black hair and black eyes and legs that went on for miles," Dave smirked as he settled his gaze on her, "and you're not old enough for any more details than that."

With a chuckle, Emily nodded firmly, "understood."

Interesting, she wasn't even sure he was going to answer the question. Maybe she'd ask Morgan later, just for fun. Really just to see the look of utter confusion on his face at the thought of spending his life with just one person. She loved him like a brother but . . . he really was a dog. Reaching down to her bag she started to pull out her book but was interrupted by Dave.

"Uh, uh missy. I told you mine, now you tell me yours. Who is the great love of your life?"

She looked over contritely, "I'm sorry Dave but I have nothing to bring to the party. I haven't met my Prince Charming yet," she gave an amused snort, "trust me, I've kissed nothing but frogs."

Dave scoffed, "I find that hard to believe with a beautiful girl like you," he tipped his head, "really Emily, there hasn't been one Heathcliff to your Catherine?"

Rolling her eyes in disgust Emily made a gagging noise, "first, gah, I HATE that book! Heathcliff was an ass, borderline domestic batterer! And Catherine, she was a moron for chasing him her entire life." She huffed in derision before looking back at Dave and giving him a slow grin, "oh but thanks for calling me beautiful. I'll remember that at Christmas. Unlike the rest of the team, you Mr. Rossi will not be getting any half price chocolate menorahs leftover from last Hanukkah!"

Dave laughed heartily at her joke . . . God she was a funny kid. And smart as a whip, it was too bad she hadn't found anyone yet to make her happy. But she did deserve the happily ever after so he supposed maybe it was for the best that she kept looking until she found it. Staring at her as she fumbled through her pages he decided to circle back around to her other remark. It was really too good to let pass unnoticed.

"You know Emily most people consider Wuthering Heights to be one of the greatest love stories of all time."

Given that she was busy flipping through her novel trying to find her missing bookmark, Emily's response was somewhat distracted, "yeah, well most people also think Paris Hilton serves some purpose on the planet besides her role as a human Petri dish but," she glanced up, "I'm not one of _those_ people either."

Hotch, who up until then had been silently eavesdropping on Prentiss and Rossi's conversation, snorted at her remark, but that was fortunately covered up completely by Rossi's bark of laughter. And Emily, oblivious to either of them continued more passionately as she warmed to her topic.

"Now if you're looking for a _timeless_ love story, that would be Elizabeth Bennett and Fitzwilliam Darcy. He completely misjudges her at their first meeting, basically he's a complete ass and she, rightfully so, hates his guts. But eventually he comes to see she's an intelligent, strong, funny woman and he falls in love with her. And then she begins to see that he's not the cold unfeeling bastard that he appeared to be initially, and that he's actually the man she's meant to be with for the rest of her life. And, as in the case of any good romance, in the end, they finally work out all of their issues and they live happily ever after." She quirked her lip up, "now THAT'S a love story."

And with that final pronouncement, Emily started reading her cheesy harlequin romance that she was trying to use to turn her brain to mush after a crappy case. She was of the opinion that there was nothing like some 'heaving bosoms' to wipe the slate clean.

A few seats away Hotch's eyes crinkled in amusement after Prentiss' impassioned defense of Pride & Prejudice. But then he sobered as he began to think more carefully about her original inquiry to Dave. Great Loves. Was Haley his great love? He'd never thought about it before. He really didn't know the answer to that question. He had been smitten with her since the first time he saw her in college, but it was never an all consuming passion. Nothing Heathcliffy or Romeo'esque about it. Their love was sweet and familiar, but even still, if she was the great love of his life, then shouldn't he have been able to quit his job to keep her. I mean, great love, you'd do anything for that person, right? He'd die for his family but he couldn't quit his job, there was something seriously wrong with that.

His brow creased in concern . . . maybe he and Haley really didn't love each other enough anymore to fix this. Maybe they never did. Because it seemed like a slight career change would be a relatively small sacrifice to keep your family. But for him, it was a completely unacceptable one.

Though . . . on the flip side . . . Haley knew how important his work was to him, and she'd asked him to walk away from it. If he was her great love would she want to change him into somebody else?

No . . . he shook his head slowly . . . no she wouldn't.

Just the other day Haley had mentioned the D word for the first time. Divorced. He wasn't a divorce guy. He was a 'til death do us part' guy. He just had to wonder . . . did he marry his 'til death do us part' girl?

Once upon a time he'd have said yes . . . but now . . . he didn't know. He shook his head . . . no . . . it didn't matter. He couldn't _let_ it matter. Because he wanted his family back, that wasn't up for debate. Love didn't have to be all consuming. It could be comfortable and safe and you could still be happy. Sighing he turned to look out the window.

_'Now he just had to convince Haley.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: It's funny, until I was scribbling here I didn't realize the similarities in the personalities between Darcy and Elizabeth and Hotch and Emily. Maybe that's why I subconsciously was drawn to the H/P ship because I really do like that book. Hmm, interesting. See, this is why you don't have to pay for therapy. Eventually all that psychological crap sorts itself out. _

_The utter disdain for Wuthering Heights, that's all me. Arcadya will notice that was a condensed, less profanity laced, version of a rant I made just the other day. But hey if you're going to steal from somebody, it should really be yourself. And if that happens to be like your favorite book, then let's just please agree to disagree :)_

_I very much would have liked to have given Hotch the light bulb moment here where he realizes his marriage is truly over. But, he doesn't get served until the next chapter and then they have their big blow up the one after that. So, rest assured folks in a couple days Hotch will accept that Haley just isn't the one._

_Good news, the next chapter is partially written and I have a clear image in my head for the rest of the scene. So, fingers crossed, that should be up on Tuesday. And YAY! The next chapter after that was completed over a month ago! We're hitting the home stretch on season three and there are only a couple more I actually need to do any work on at all. Once we get to "The Crossing" everything from that point on for the subsequent 13 chapters is ALL done! So I think within a week we'll be back to regularly scheduled updates. And that will last for at least 13 days :)_

_Next: __**"As I Was Going to St. Ives"**_


	33. As I Was Going to St Ives

**Author's Note:** This chapter is a monstrosity. The biggest one yet, over 6000 words, but it basically wrote itself in less than 24 hours while I was living my regular life. Anyone out there who writes knows getting that many _cohesive_ (key) words down in that short amount of time is like unheard of! Especially given it took 4 days to crank out the last one when it was a fifth the size. So I finished the chapter last night, then decided not to put it up because it was missing something. So today, I rewrote the ending, but I also kept the original one, and once everything is posted I'll explain why. Trust me, I think you'll be pleased.

BUT, because that whole last section was rewritten I need to run through it again before it goes up. Therefore, so as not to torture you unnecessarily for another day, I decided to post this chapter in two parts. This first piece is relatively small but it was the best place to cut it. I'll try to get the second piece up later tonight. If not then definitely tomorrow morning.

So post ep for the one where Hotch is served his divorce papers. The first two lines of dialogue are from the show.

* * *

_Episode – __Birthright_

**As I Was Going to St. Ives**

"What is it?"

Hotch took a breath and with a pained expression turned to answer Emily.

"Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

Emily stood stunned for a moment as Hotch walked off. Then she turned to Dave, who looked as upset as she felt. She gave him a questioning look and he nodded his approval so Emily hurried out the glass doors.

She caught up with Hotch at the elevator.

"Hotch wait."

Mortified that that had just happened at the office . . . in front of EVERYONE(!) . . . Hotch didn't even look over as he snapped back at Emily.

"What do you _want_ Prentiss?!"

Christ! Two minutes! He just wanted TWO minutes to himself! Was that so much to ask?!

Emily stopped short . . . crap, maybe she should have waited.

"I um," she stammered, "just wanted to make sure that you were okay. But uh . . ."

And she trailed off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence. She was going to say, _'but uh, I'll talk to you later.'_ But she figured he probably didn't want to discuss it later either.

Though in the alternative she could have said, '_but uh, it's obvious you're in a bad mood,'_ but that would have sounded incredibly bitchy. Of COURSE he was in a bad mood! He just got served with divorce papers, in front of his entire team! Anybody would be would have been embarrassed, but especially somebody as private as he was.

All she wanted was for him to know that he could talk to her if he wanted . . . she just wasn't quite sure how to express it.

After blowing out an exasperated huff of hot air, Hotch turned to face Emily. He was ready to tell her to just go back to the office and he'd see her in the morning.

But then he stopped, and really looked at her. Though he'd snapped at her, she didn't look hurt or angry. She just looked . . . worried.

And he started to feel like an asshole.

She was just worried about him, and he was being a jerk because he was upset. But she didn't deserve to have his anger at Haley taken out on her. His gaze dropped as he closed his eyes.

Why did he keep making such a mess of things? She'd been so good to him the last few weeks. Helping him get through the holidays.

There was no excuse for his behavior.

When he looked back up, he swallowed hard before continuing in a softer tone.

"Prentiss, thank you for your concern, but I'm okay."

It was a lie but he figured she was too polite to call him on it.

Knowing that Hotch was trying, Emily gave him a sad smile. She knew that he was hurting and after what had just happened, the poor guy deserved to retain a bit of dignity.

"Okay," her voice was soft, "I just wanted to make sure. And," she cleared her throat, "to let you know if you, uh, need anything that you know that we're here," catching his gaze she gave him a pointed look, "_I'm_ here."

Though she doubted that he'd accept the offer, she wanted to say it anyway. The last thing somebody needed in a situation like this was to think that they were all alone.

And that was one thing that Hotch was not.

Hotch's teeth sunk into his lip as his expression softened slightly.

It was kind of amazing. She just kept trying with him even when he was throwing off every signal in the world that he only wanted to be left alone. Generally the rest of the team gave him a wide berth then, but she never had. She'd always said her peace before walking away.

Or sometimes . . . he thought back to the fall . . . not walking away.

When Garcia had been shot, he'd gone off to get some time by himself, but she'd stumbled across him a few minutes later. And she came right over and sat down. And it had only taken a second for him to be glad that she had, and then two minutes later she'd put her head on his shoulder and he'd been thanking God for sending her to him.

Suddenly Hotch felt a pang of guilt.

He should be nicer to her. Not that he was mean, ordinarily they got along very well, but still . . . he should be nicer. That should be his default position. Because she deserved at least the same level of kindness back, that she consistently showed to him. He shouldn't let his personal situation make him think it was okay to bark at her.

It wasn't.

And only an asshole would think that it was. She'd done nothing to deserve it. Hotch dropped his eyes to the ground then and took a small breath. And when he looked back up, he made sure to give her a little smile.

"Thank you Prentiss. I'll keep that in mind."

Relieved that it seemed she'd broken through that wall of his . . . these days it took less swings of the sledge hammer to do it . . . Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she nodded back.

"Good."

They stared at each other for a moment and then the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

The moment was broken.

And Emily watched Hotch turn to step onto the car, and she was wondering if what she was thinking was a good idea. Oh, what the hell.

It couldn't hurt.

So just as the doors were about to close, she put her hand over the sensor and they bounced back.

"Hotch, I know that you're having a bad night and you probably want to be alone, but why don't you come out with us anyway?" She gave him a sympathetic smile. "It would be good to have a distraction, you know, get your mind off things."

Hotch slowly shook his head as he tucked the divorce packet more securely under his arm.

"I don't think I'd be very good company Prentiss."

Emily quirked her lip up.

"Well no offense Hotch," she responded gently, "but you aren't exactly the life of the party on your best day."

At that, his eyes crinkled faintly.

"Well be that as it may Agent Prentiss, all the same I think I'm going to take a pass."

"Okay," Emily nodded as she pulled her hand back, "I understand. But if you change your mind we'll be at O'Leary's." Then she stepped back and watched the doors slam shut.

For a moment Emily stared at her reflection in the shiny metal. Then she shook her head and went back to collect the others.

/*/*/*/*/*

Just in case Hotch changed his mind and decided to come out and meet them, Emily had been keeping one eye on the door since the team had arrived at the bar.

She'd been doing that for the past hour.

Unfortunately it was getting pretty crowded in there, and she was afraid that if he did come . . . and he couldn't locate them right away . . . that he'd turn right around and back walk out the door. Because getting Hotch out for a beer was like coaxing a turtle out of its shell.

If you scared him off then there'd be six more weeks of winter.

Wait . . . Emily furrowed her brow . . . what? No, that wasn't right. That was groundhogs. So what the hell was the turtle saying? She cocked her head.

_Was_ there a turtle saying? It seemed like there was one for every other animal so if there wasn't, the turtle was kind of getting short changed. Her lips pursed then in confusion.

How the hell did she get off on this tangent?

Then she shook her head . . . didn't matter. The _point_ was, that if Hotch came out she wanted to make sure that she caught him. But in an effort to distract herself from 'Hotch Watch 08' (the worrying was kind of stressing her out) she decided to turn half an ear back to the speakers . . . Nickelback was singing about Someday . . . and half an ear into the Warner Brothers versus Hanna-Barbera debate raging between Reid and Garcia at the other end of the table.

Apparently Huckleberry Hound was a classic Gothic figure while Foghorn Leghorn perpetuated the worst of southern stereotypes.

But unfortunately neither the music . . . nor the arguments about racial equality in animated caricatures . . . could really capture her full attention. So her mind began to wander back towards Hotch's situation.

Even though she knew that it really wasn't any of her business at all, the whole situation still seriously irked her.

How could his wife just TAKE his son away from him? Didn't she realize that his work alone was sufficient punishment for any transgressions, real or imagined, that he could have committed over the past five lifetimes?! And Emily wanted to hate Haley for doing that to him . . . hell if Hotch wanted it, she'd hate her just out of loyalty!

But . . . her teeth dug into her lip . . . she was pretty sure that he didn't want that.

What he wanted was to work things out. And even if he didn't know about it, Emily was pretty sure that he wouldn't approve of her shooting metaphorical daggers at his wife.

Also though, Emily had met the woman . . . she was nice. And that night at the bar, they had seemed happy.

That was barely a year ago.

And as much as it pained her to admit it, Emily knew that she wasn't in a position to judge Haley. But she had to wonder what could have happened to change all that.

It must have been something major to walk away from a man like Aaron Hotchner.

Though Emily knew that he was grumpy and stubborn . . . and opinionated, and at times a completely humorless pain in the ass, but that was just surface stuff. He was also kind and sensitive, and he had a really good heart.

He was a good man.

And Emily wasn't sure if Haley understood just how hard it was to FIND a good man. With a huff to herself, Emily took a swig of her beer.

Hell, she'd been looking for one the past twenty plus years, and she _still_ hadn't found one worth keeping more than six months. And this crazy chick is tossing them out like Kleenex!

Realizing that she was going off on another tangent, Emily gave an internal eye roll.

Enough Prentiss! Mind your business.

And with that she shifted her attention back to the entryway. Movement had caught her eyes . . . the door was starting to open . . . and then a second later she saw Hotch step into the bar.

Oh good . . . her eyes crinkled as her lips curved . . . he came!

* * *

_A/N 2: Emily says it's '08 here. I hadn't considered the time line of events recently but I decided everything went to hell with Gideon and Strauss in May, Hotch got suspended and Haley left him in early June. I'm putting this in early January. I didn't realize until I was looking at the broadcast dates of the eps, but the writer's strike majorly screwed up the timing of their life events. But I really needed his separation to have been LENGTHY at this point. Also, just to note, JJ is not pregnant yet. AJ might have been pregnant when they taped this one, but JJ didn't get pregnant for another few weeks at least because (based on the birthstone ring) she had Henry in November. It's only relevant because I have her drinking at the bar and I wouldn't if she had a bun cooking._

_Good stuff coming up next folks! _

_Next: __**"I Met a Man"**_


	34. I Met a Man

**Author's Note:** As Comic Book Guy would say, "longest . . . chapter . . . ever!" And I'm pretty critical of my own stuff, but I do think this one came out pretty well. I hope you agree!

And there are some references to prior events I covered in the Hours. If you haven't read the story it's fine, its just that Emily & Hotch both have some major "issues" and they allude in their thoughts to specific instances from their childhoods that made them why they are the way they are.

**Companion:** Chp. 33 "As I was Going to St. Ives" (all kinds of things happened on that trip)

**Allusions: **Chp. 27, "Pizza & Porno" Also from The Hours, Chp. 44 "The Fifth Circle" & Chp. 45, "Skin Deep"

* * *

_Episode – __Birthright_

**I Met A Man**

Hotch paused just inside the door of the bar.

Though he'd gotten this far, suddenly he wasn't so sure that meeting the team was a good idea.

After he'd left the office, he'd gone for a drive to the Wal-Mart down the street. He'd wanted to be able to have some privacy for his upcoming battle royale with his wife. So then for the next half hour he'd paced back and forth by his jeep. Spending half of that time yelling into his cell phone at Haley, and then the other half of it listening to her yell back at him.

He just couldn't get beyond the fact that she'd had him served at the office.

Was she _trying_ to humiliate him?!

And when he'd asked her that question flat out, she'd come back with a "well, where the hell else was I supposed to find you, Aaron!? You still don't have an apartment and process servers don't deliver to the hotel concierge!"

He gotten so pissed off at that.

Though he didn't want the damn divorce, if he'd known that she filing, then he sure as hell would have gone and _picked_ _up_ the damn papers! But she hadn't even told him that they were coming!

She'd just AMBUSHED him!

So they went back and forth, slicing and cutting at each other . . . and then Haley suddenly lost all her steam. She said she didn't want to fight about it anymore. She didn't want to fight about anything anymore.

And then she'd hung up.

Hotch knew then that his marriage, his family . . . his life, it really was slipping away from him.

The possibility of reconciliation suddenly seemed very dim.

And after that realization . . . one he'd been fighting for months . . . all he'd wanted was a damn drink. Except he was actually staying in a hotel. And stopping at the liquor store to buy a six pack to take back and drink alone in a hotel room, just seemed pathetic.

Incredibly so.

But then he remembered Emily's offer to meet them later. Though he really didn't feel like being sociable, he knew that at least drinking in a group was better than being a _complete_ loser, and drinking alone.

Plus he knew that if he went to the hotel he'd just wallow.

The bar would be a distraction, but now that he'd arrived, he was having second thoughts. Maybe he should just go back to the office and try to work. That's how he'd spent the majority of the separation so far.

Elbow deep in case files.

And he was about to turn and go when he spotted Emily waving at him.

Okay . . . he sucked in a breath . . . well, now he had to go in for at least a few minutes. It would be rude to walk out now.

Plus he was pretty sure that she'd run after him.

So he slowly made his way around the throngs gathered for happy hour and bar trivia, to arrive at the team's crowded table in the corner of the bar.

Given the number of empty glasses and bottles, he figured that they were just finishing their second round. And they did all seem (genuinely) pleased to see him, so he started thinking that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to get out for one night.

It was something to do.

Morgan snatched another chair from the group next to them, and Hotch pulled it up beside Emily at the very end of their cobbled together rectangle of smaller tables. Hotch slipped off his suit jacket, taking a second to fold it over the chair back before he sat down.

Though she tried not to be obvious, Emily was eying Hotch with concern.

She was worried about him, but she was please to see that at least he'd realized it would be good for him to be around other people. He'd looked so hurt earlier when those damn papers had arrived, that she hated the idea of him being off by himself. And she so badly wanted to give him a hug now . . . and she could get away with it, she'd slipped in a few hugs with him over the holidays . . . but she knew how embarrassed he would be if she did that in front of the team.

And he'd had enough embarrassment for one day.

So instead of offering him the comfort that would make _her_ feel better, she tipped her head towards him as she murmured softly.

"It's nice to see you."

In response to Emily's comment, Hotch's gaze fell as he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Well, I figured one beer wouldn't hurt."

The words were barely out of his mouth, when the waitress suddenly placed a Guinness down on the table in front of him. Hotch raised a perplexed eyebrow as he looked down at the coffee colored liquid.

"Whose beer is this?" He asked in confusion.

After she picked up her own pint, Emily used it to gesture to his.

"Yours," she answered, "the waitress was walking by just when you came in, so I ordered it for you."

She hoped he only wanted a beer. What was the preferred drink in situation like this? Most likely hard liquor. But it was only Thursday, and he had to work tomorrow, so hard alcohol probably wasn't a good idea anyway.

Though as she eyed the expression on his face, regardless of the etiquette of the situation, he seemed pleased with her pick.

Hotch eyes crinkled as he picked up the beer.

"Thanks Prentiss."

Sometimes she really was very thoughtful. And God knew that he'd been craving a Guinness for the past hour.

Emily's lip quirked up.

"No problem sir."

And then she traced her fingers in the condensation of her glass while watching the man chug a third of his beer in five seconds flat.

When he put it back down, Hotch gave her a grateful nod . . . she bumped his shoulder in acknowledgment.

But Emily knew that he wasn't in the mood to talk, so she didn't even try to make social chitchat. Dave was sitting on Hotch's other side, fortunately he also seemed satisfied to leave him alone.

They just sat and listened to the others.

Reid and Garcia were still debating cartoons, but now JJ and Morgan had gotten into the mix. The new topic was Jetsons versus Flintstones, which was really the eternal 'caveman versus astronaut' debate, and everybody knew that astronauts won. Brain always beat brawn.

But that didn't stop Garcia from making her impassioned pitch for Fred Flintstone.

As they sat there . . . listening to this ridiculous, though amusing, conversation . . . out of the corner of her eye, Emily noticed that Hotch would occasionally turn up his lip at one of their more outrageous remarks. But it was clear to her that he was depressed, and she just wished that there was something that she could think to do to cheer him up.

But she didn't suppose that this was really a situation where you _could_ cheer someone up.

You might be able to keep them busy, but the harsh reality of the situation was not going to change just because you broke out some balloon animals and started acting out a puppet show.

She rolled her eyes.

Where the _hell_ were these bizarre non sequiturs coming from?! Then she looked down at the table. Oh that's right . . . the two glasses of Sam on an empty stomach. Her brow furrowed in contemplation as she considered the consequences of continuing to drink on an empty stomach.

Hmm, maybe she should eat something.

She turned to Hotch with a little frown.

"Are you hungry? Because I think I need to eat something soon or I'm going to get a headache."

Hotch's brow knitted together as he looked down at his empty glass.

He drained it in less than ten minutes.

If he kept up this pace, he'd be on the floor within an hour. So with a nod, he looked back up at Emily.

"Yeah I should probably eat too."

The last 'meal' he'd had was a granola bar. That was about nine hours ago.

Emily leaned forward to ask the table about food. The group decided to add two plates of nachos and some chicken fingers to their next round. And taking point for the table, JJ put her arm up to flag down the waitress.

Just after she put in their order, the pretty blonde started squealing and bouncing in her seat.

"Oh yay, The Fray! I LOVE this song!"

When JJ had a couple of drinks in her she was almost as flirty as Garcia. And she really wanted to dance right then . . . and unfortunately Will was a few hundred miles away . . . so she fluttered her eyelashes across the table at Morgan.

He was always an easy sell.

And of course . . . as expected . . . he grinned and put out his hand.

"Come on little girl, let's go."

Garcia's eyes lit up when she realized that a new activity that had just been put on the agenda.

"Hey," she yelled out, "I want to dance too!"

With a swivel of her head she realized that her options were limited to mom, dad, big sis and baby bro.

No contest.

"Come on Bam Bam," she shot Reid a look, "let's boogey."

Reid tried to protest, but Garcia wasn't having any of it. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him out of his chair as she bellowed.

"I SAID, let's boogey!"

Hotch's head immediately dropped to his chest. He was making a concerted effort to hide his smile. Whereas Emily and Rossi made no such effort. They laughed openly at Reid's clear panic as Garcia dragged him away.

After the others left, there was a slightly awkward silence. And then Emily cleared her throat and scraped back her chair.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom."

She quickly stood up and slipped back into the crowd. She started to go one way, but then turned, deciding to head over to the restrooms up by the bar itself instead. They were off a narrow halloway . . . and they were farther away than where she was sitting . . . but they were generally less crowded than the other bathrooms down back.

But really . . . she tried to push away her faint bit of embarrassment . . . it didn't matter. She just wanted to get away from the table.

As he watched Emily disappear into the far passage, Hotch was suddenly startled by Rossi's gravely voice.

"You should have asked her to dance."

Hotch turned to his left and gave Dave a blank stare.

"What?"

With a faint eye roll, Dave took a sip of his beer and then put it back on the table.

"Emily. You should have asked her if she wanted to dance. She was the only one left at the table, and she was embarrassed."

At Dave's accusation, Hotch looked over incredulously.

"Then why didn't YOU ask her to dance?!"

Rossi bit back a dramatic sigh as he began to peel the label off his bottle of beer.

"I didn't ask her to dance because _I_ wasn't the one that she's been keeping an eye on the door for for the last hour. And _I'm_ not the reason we had to come to this bar even though Morgan and Garcia wanted to go somewhere else."

As Hotch wrinkled his brow in confusion, Rossi bit his lip.

God, how could someone so smart be so dumb.

Dave put down his bottle, and leaned forward to pat Hotch's arm.

"She's worried about you Aaron . . ." he started slowly, "we all are. And I know that you're having a shitty time right now, and I've been there and I know that it's hard to see beyond that. But . . ." he bit his lip, "Emily's going out of her way to try and help you. She insisted that we come here because this is where she told you that we'd be. And she watched the door so she could catch you in case you walked in and then decided to cut and run."

Hotch felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that's exactly what he'd been planning on doing.

Seeing that his words were making an impression on his old friend, Dave looked down and ran his finger around the rim of his bottle.

"All I'm saying is just cut her some slack Aaron . . . she's a good kid."

Though Dave wasn't sure what had made Emily decide to make Hotch's mental health a pet project, he was grateful that she'd taken the interest. Because one thing that Hotch was short on, was emotional support. He was too private, too guarded, and he didn't make friends easily. He'd been like that even when he was younger too. And it wasn't the job.

It was just something in him.

But he already trusted Emily with his life. So maybe . . . given enough time . . . he could start trusting her with some other things as well. Because Dave knew, as much as Hotch wanted to work things out with Haley, most likely his marriage was already beyond repair. And when that reality finally hit him, it wasn't going to be pretty.

It would nice if there was somebody around to help pick up the pieces.

Of course Dave would do what he could, but it wasn't the same as having a woman looking after him.

Especially a woman like Emily Prentiss.

Hotch stared at Dave for a moment before his gaze fell down to the coaster in front of him.

He didn't realize that she'd actually changed their plans for him. Or that she'd been watching the door to make sure she caught him. He had decided earlier to be more cognizant of how he treated her, and here it was two hours later and he'd already fumbled the ball. In his defense though, it would not have occurred to him that she'd go out of her way like that for him. Though why not, he didn't know. She was always doing things for the others.

Emily had a kind heart, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that she'd make an effort for him as well.

Which meant that he should make one for her too.

With this new revelation, he snapped his head back up and began scanning the crowd, trying to see if she was on her way back to the table yet. When he squinted he could see that she was just coming into view in the little hall.

Then she stopped.

He frowned . . . why was she stopped? And why did she have that look on her face?

Hotch's gaze shifted over to follow where she'd turned her head . . . and he saw him just as he grabbed her.

FUCK!

He leapt up, ignoring Rossi's, "what's wrong?" as he started pushing his way through the crowd.

Momentarily concerned at Hotch's sudden departure, Rossi watched his friend rush off. But then . . . spotting Emily's profile . . . Dave relaxed, figuring that Hotch had seen her as well and was going to talk to her after all. So Dave nodded to himself as he went back to his drink.

That was a good sign.

Hotch broke through the crowd congregating around the bar and hurried into the relative quiet . . . and privacy . . . of the side hallway.

Emily was grimacing in pain as she rubbed her arm.

For a second he stared at her, his fingers curling into tight fists. Seeing her hurt had tapped into a fury that he hadn't had to struggle against in awhile. Then he took a step closer and one of his arms came up.

His fingers unclenched so that he could brush the tips over her hand. Then she turned it over so that he could see . . . finger marks. His gaze traveled along her skin.

And scratches.

She was bleeding.

A wave of fury swept through him as he sucked in a breath . . . motherfucker!

Jaw twisting, and teeth grinding, Hotch's eyes snapped back up to Emily's face.

"Are you all right?" He asked tightly.

She nodded.

"Yeah," then her eyes flicked to the floor as she added pitilessly, "but he's not."

His eyes snapped over to the asshole who had just assaulted her. The asshole who was now doubled over in pain after what Hotch assumed was a shot to the solar plexus by Emily.

He should have known she could take care of it herself. Of course just because she'd already taken care of it, didn't mean that the matter was closed.

Not by a long shot.

He looked back to Emily.

"You want to press charges?"

That would determine his next steps here. How many marks he was planning on leaving on this man.

"No," Emily shook her head as she stepped back and leaned wearily against the wall, "no, I'm done with him."

As Hotch worked his jaw, Emily noticed a look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Her gaze drifted over to the dick who'd decided to cop a feel when she walked out of the bathroom.

You . . . her lip quirked up humorlessly . . . are a dead man.

Hotch reached over and grabbed the man's wrist, bending it back until the guy was down on one knee, gasping in pain. As his face came into view Hotch could see that Emily had taken out his nose as well.

It looked like it was broken.

Good.

And Hotch was thinking that if his temper stayed running as hot as it was now, that might not be the end of the broken bones that evening.

He leaned down.

"What the FUCK did you think you were doing?" He hissed, "you're lucky that she isn't bringing you up on assault charges."

When there was no response to what he said, Hotch kicked the guy's other leg out from under him, knocking him flat to the ground. That resulted in a yelp of pain that Hotch ignored completely. Instead opting to jam his knee into the guy's neck.

"So here's what's going to happen," he continued with murderous calm, "in a moment you will leave this bar, and if you have a brain in your head, you will not come back here again. But before that happens, you will apologize to the lady, and if you don't," he twisted the wrist a little harder, "I snap your wrist or . . ." he ground his knee, "I break your neck. Your choice."

With his teeth gritted in agony, the guy on the ground turned his head so he could see the other man's face. And what he saw scared the shit out of him.

This guy was serious. He really was about to break a bone.

OH FUCK!

He started sniveling immediately.

"Uh, uh, I'm really sorry lady, I didn't mean to uh . . ."

Suddenly his words were replaced with a harsh gasp . . . his wrist had just been cranked another notch.

"NO!" Hotch ground out with a lethal fury, "clearly you DID mean to, or else she wouldn't have been _injured_! And she wouldn't have had to break your, your . . ."

And he stopped short, thinking about the fact that Emily actually had to _BREAK _this asshole's nose just to safely traverse ten feet down an empty hallway.

No woman should ever be put in that position.

As that thought slammed into him, Hotch's temper . . . which had been fraying for months . . . finally snapped.

He pulled back the pressure on the perp's neck, knowing full well that the asshole would buck and try to roll away.

Which is exactly what he did.

And that's when Hotch yanked his arm back . . . officially to regain control . . . unofficially to hear that satisfying crack when the bone snapped in two.

The guy yelped like a wounded animal. Then . . . when Hotch let him go . . . he rolled into a fetal position and started whimpering on the dirty floor. And Hotch stood over that pathetic mass feeling absolutely nothing. Nothing but rage.

Not even a shred of remorse.

This fucker had grabbed one of _his_ people, you don't do that and get away with just a bloody nose!

But he had no patience to listen to the crying either . . . it was likely to result in a stomp to the face . . . so Hotch crouched down and growled.

"Now get the _fuck_ out of here."

For a moment the guy seemed frozen in terror. Then he swallowed hard . . . and holding his limp hand against his chest . . . scrambled to his feet, and ran towards the exit.

He slammed into two men as he tried to make his way out.

One of them gave him another shove which knocked him to his knees. But he was back up and running before Hotch had even blinked.

Still, Hotch made sure the door fell shut before he turned to look back at Emily.

She was still holding her forearm stiffly against her body.

"Let me see," he whispered.

And when she slowly extended her arm . . . wincing slightly in the process . . . Hotch gently probed the bones checking for any swelling or misalignment. Then he furrowed his brow.

It seemed okay aside from the bruising and the scratches.

Finally he looked up to her face.

He was concerned at what he was going to see . . . if there would be judgment. He hadn't lost his temper like that in a long time. And the last time it was not in front of anyone whose opinion mattered to him.

And Emily's opinion mattered to him very much.

And at present she was staring at him without any expression at all, which really did not make him feel any better. For a moment he felt a stab of fear that he had lost her respect.

And that was something that he couldn't afford to lose.

But then her lip quirked up, and her mouth curved in a cold smile.

"I could have used you two weeks ago. I broke two fingernails putting a guy's head into a wall."

Oddly enough, nothing about that statement surprised Hotch. He was just relieved that she wasn't angry. Because most women . . . hell most people . . . would have been pretty upset about what he'd just done.

Even more so because he clearly wasn't sorry about it.

But he had learned long ago that Emily Prentiss was NOT, most people. And now he was curious what could have precipitated her shoving a man's face through plasterboard. He tipped his head quizzically.

"What did he do?"

With another faint wince, Emily used her injured arm to reach up and pull down the shoulder of her sweater.

"This."

Hotch's eyes widened in alarm even as his fingers automatically went up to ghost over the bruise.

"Jesus Christ Prentiss! It looks this bad two weeks _later_!?"

This was ten times worse than the marks she had now. His eyes snapped back over to hers.

"Did you file a report?"

With a disgusted huff, Emily pulled her shirt back onto her shoulder.

"God no, it wasn't worth the effort. Three hours of my personal time filling out paperwork for the type of injury I get two or three times a year on the job anyway? Besides, he was the one that had to go to the emergency room. I just had to pack my shoulder with some ice. It was only a soft tissue injury," she shook her head dismissively, "it was nothing."

Hotch didn't respond. He just looked at her for a second before his eyes traveled back down her arm. He stared at the blood drying on her skin.

"We need to clean your hand."

Emily looked down.

It really wasn't much of anything. The trauma from having her arm yanked had almost passed . . . she could flex it now without wincing . . . but he was right about getting cleaned up.

The cuts weren't serious, but her skin was all sticky from the blood.

Hotch walked to the end of the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. The bathrooms at this end of the bar were unisex single stalls so when nobody answered after a moment, he pulled it open, stepping back so Emily could enter.

Then to her surprise, Hotch followed her into the bathroom. Once there he immediately walked past her to go over and turn on the hot water. Her brow wrinkled slightly.

That was a bit unexpected. But then she realized that he was probably still in 'protective' mode.

After all, he did just break somebody's wrist for her.

Though if questioned she'd say it was an inadvertent injury the perpetrator had obtained while he was being questioned regarding an assault on a law enforcement officer. Though she knew that was crap. Hotch had snapped that guy's wrist in two because he'd left a mark on her arm. Which was very sweet.

In a really fucked up kind of way.

But Emily was . . . in a lot of ways . . . pretty fucked up herself, so she was going with sweet.

Still though, she figured it would probably be best if nobody walked in on the two of them in the bathroom together . . . it wouldn't look good . . . so she turned back to slide the door lock before following him over to the sink.

If it made him feel better to clean up her cuts, then she'd let him.

Emily ran her hand under the hot water, wincing slightly as it stung her wounded flesh.

After she pulled it back, Hotch began gently rubbing a soapy paper towel over the bits of dried blood. Then he ran her hand back under the faucet. Once he was satisfied that her cuts were . . . as suspected . . . only superficial, he turned off the water. He reach up to get another paper towel for her to dry off.

As Hotch stared at Emily's reflection in the mirror, he asked quietly.

"Why did you put his head through a wall?"

Hotch didn't know very many people that had a temper like he did. At least not _good_ people who did. And Emily was a good person, and so it worried him, wondering what could have happened to her.

Because he hoped to God that it was nothing like what had happened to him.

Emily slowly raised her head, catching Hotch's eyes in the mirror. She sensed from his tone . . . and how intently he was watching her . . . that there was more to the question than was apparent on its face.

And after she'd cleared her throat, she haltingly explained what had happened earlier in the month.

"I um, got into an argument with this guy. We'd been playing pool and I won. He said he wasn't going to pay a woman. He actually called me a, well, let's just say it was a four letter word that started with the letter C. So I called him a pathetic piece of shit, and he grabbed me and slammed my shoulder into a concrete pillar. And, well . . . I saw red." Her jaw twitched, "the next thing he saw was dry wall."

It was hardly the worst night of her life, but it wasn't exactly a banner evening either.

For a moment Hotch stared at Emily's face, and then his gaze shifted to the side. He slowly reached up to slide her shirt down from her shoulder again.

His fingertips tenderly traced the green and yellow bruise as he whispered.

"So you got this because you won a pool game?"

Hotch had once received a similar mark for getting a B on his history final. Maybe that's why Haley was leaving him. Maybe he was just too fucked up from everything that had happened when he was a kid. And . . . his eyes stung . . . everything he had seen as an adult. Maybe that's why she's couldn't stay with him any longer. Because there had to be a reason . . . a _good_ reason.

And he just desperately needed to understand what that reason was.

Emily's breath caught.

Though she wasn't quite sure what was happening with them, it suddenly seemed like it was very important. So she turned slowly towards him, her gaze dropping down to the dirty floor.

She was waiting for him to figure out what he wanted to do.

Though some part of her was aware that eventually somebody was going to knock on the door . . . or the others would start looking for them . . . but those were inconsequential concerns right now. And with the lull in their conversation she tuned back into the fact that the music was piped into the bathroom as well.

They were playing Coldplay . . . The Scientist.

And as she listened to the lyrics, it seemed fitting for the moment . . . _tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_.

Hotch stared at Emily's bruised shoulder for more a minute, perhaps even closer to two, before he finally fixed her shirt and pulled his hand back.

It fisted at his side.

Emily stared down at those clenched fingers and wondered what he was thinking. Then her eyes traveled slowly back up his body, finally resting on his face. She winced in sympathy.

He just looked so unbelievably lonely.

So she reached over and tentatively touched his arm. When he looked down, she gave him a sad smile.

"I know that you don't hug, but you know that I do. So you're getting one whether you like it or not, okay?"

Hotch's lips curved in a sad smile.

"Okay." He whispered back.

Once she had Hotch's consent, Emily stepped closer. There she wrapped her arms around his torso and placed her head on his chest. Then she squeezed him tight.

Hotch ran his hand down Emily's back while he continued to listen to the lyrics about a couple's relationship falling apart. And that's when he started to feel a creeping misery settling over him. He pulled Emily closer. Then he wrapped his arm possessively around her waist.

When she didn't pull away . . . in fact she held him even tighter . . . he closed his eyes, and did what he hadn't allowed himself to do that night in her apartment a few months before.

He let himself pretend that she was somebody else.

Because right now Emily Prentiss was something tangible that he could hang onto while the rest of his life was being ripped away from him.

As Hotch clutched her desperately against his chest, Emily's eyes began to water.

She so badly wanted to have the magic words to make this better. To offer him a little peace . . . but there was nothing to say. She figured the best that she could for him, was simply to hang on. So she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, molding her body tightly against his until there wasn't a sliver of light left between them.

Once she was settled, Emily breathed softly against his throat, smelling his Hotchness, feeling that sense of safety . . . and wondering again why Haley was leaving this man.

Feeling Emily's warm pliable body wrapped around him, with her breath tickling his neck, gave Hotch a physical stirring somewhere that he shouldn't when pressed up against one of his agents. But there were so many things that he was losing.

That he had already lost.

And now he had another woman offering him comfort and support because . . . his breath hitched . . . his wife didn't want that job anymore. But how do you DECIDE something like that!?

That somebody that you've loved for half of your life is just no longer worth the effort.

He felt a tear run down his face . . . and then another.

They wouldn't stop.

A few seconds later Emily began to rub small soothing circles on his back. And for the second time in a month, Hotch thanked God for bringing her to him. They weren't really friends . . . by no routine definition would they be considered close . . . but they were something.

And whatever that was . . . he sucked in a shuddering breath . . . it was enough.

Feeling a sob rip through Hotch's chest, a tear slipped down Emily's face.

He was was absolutely breaking her heart. And that's when she finally thought of one other thing that she could do to take away his pain.

At least for a little while.

She pressed a soft kiss on his throat . . . and then another, and another.

Slowly she kissing her way along his jaw as she rubbed her lower body against his. They'd already been pressed together, and she could feel him begin to harden almost immediately.

The sensation caused her nipples to do the same.

He might have been her chief, but he was also crying in her arms. So at the moment, their professional status was really the last thing on her mind.

She leaned back so she could see his expression . . . there wasn't one.

He was just staring at her.

Hotch wiped the tears off his face . . . he didn't know what to say.

Was she really offering to do this? And was he really considering it?

Their working relationship didn't seem to be a concern for her. And given how gut achingly empty he felt right then, it really didn't feel like much of a concern to him either. And she'd only had two beers so she certainly wasn't drunk.

Emily stood up on her toes, and gently kissed his lips.

"If you want to," she murmured against them, "then it's okay." Then she leaned back slightly to give him a little smile, "and it's okay if you don't."

When he only blinked in response, she took his silence as assent so she skimmed her hands down his chest, running them over the bulge in his pants. She squeezed lightly before she began to undo his belt.

Foreplay seemed a waste of time. He was obviously ready to go. And she'd been ready since she'd felt his heat pressing against her.

This was all about the act . . . she began to stroke him through his boxers . . . nothing more.

As Hotch felt Emily begin to give him a hand job, he blinked.

Apparently she really was offering. And it had been a LONG time since he'd had sex, so it only took a few seconds of her stroking him, to feel himself harden to steel. And that's when he realized that he was actually going to do it.

He was going to have sex with Emily.

Just as she started to slip her fingers inside, he surprised her by suddenly crushing his mouth against hers. Her hand fell away as he picked her up off the tile floor, and placed her on the counter.

Emily immediately wrapped her legs around Hotch's waist, yanking him closer as she angled their bodies. And then she felt him grind against her.

She squeaked.

His erection was rubbing right against her center, driving her insane. Her nails scraped down his back.

She wanted him inside her NOW!

Feeling his libido begin to run out of his control, Hotch slipped his fingers under Emily's sweater and up her sides while simultaneously sliding his tongue along her lips.

He asking for permission to enter.

And when she gave it . . . he plundered. This kiss was nothing like their previous ones. This one was wanton, and passionate, and he had her moaning and gasping for air before he'd even removed a stitch of her clothing.

That's not to say though that one roving hand hadn't already released the hooks on her bra.

He'd already slipped one breast free from it's cup, and was gently kneading it in his hand.

That action resulted in another moan.

And after a minute or so of exploring the depths of her mouth . . . while his thumb had moved on to caress her nipple . . . he began to suck hungrily on her tongue.

She tasted like something familiar, and it wasn't just the beer . . . it was something else. And then she ground her lower body against his, and the thought slipped away as he went out of his mind.

His hand fell away from her breast and down to her zipper.

He hadn't had sex in months. He had been having regular sex since he was sixteen, and he hadn't been with a woman in SIX months!

If Emily made that move again she just might KILL him!

But unfortunately that's when he remembered . . . the last time he had sex was with Haley.

Haley.

If he did this . . . he froze . . . his marriage would really be over.

Feeling Hotch tense up, just as hand froze on her belt, Emily realized that he'd changed his mind.

DAMN IT!

Still panting, she pulled back slowly and looked into his eyes. And seeing the warring emotions of lust and guilt . . . and sadness, she felt a stab of shame. And then her eyes began to burn for thinking only of her own needs for a moment instead of his.

This was supposed to be about him.

So she gave him a watery smile as she said softly.

"It's okay."

Then she kissed his cheek before moving to lay her head on his shoulder.

Hotch felt horrible for stopping, even though he knew that he had to. But he didn't want Emily to be embarrassed about what they'd done . . . or what they'd almost done . . . so he felt like he had to explain why.

As he ran his thumb along the smooth skin of her stomach, he tipped his head over to whisper in her ear.

"If we do this, then I can't fix it." He tucked his head against hers, "I'm sorry."

The tears that Emily had been trying to hold in spilled over, immediately soaking into Hotch's shirt. She buried her face in his neck as she began to cry.

"No, don't be sorry! I'm sorry! I know you want to fix it. I just thought that it would take your pain away for a little while." Her voice cracked, "did I make it worse?"

All she'd wanted to do was make it better, and she'd feel just awful if she made him feel even worse!

"No, Emily," Hotch vehemently shook his head while squeezing her upper body, "I promise, you didn't."

Though she seemed to be listening to him, it didn't stop the tears. And he held her until she'd stopped crying . . . and then he held her a little bit longer, the whole time listening to Snow Patrol as they chased cars. And finally, by the time the song was done, they both had their emotions back under control.

And fortunately by then his raging hard on had, at last, gotten the memo that it was no longer needed.

It probably would have gone away a little faster if Emily hadn't still been wrapped around his waist. But shoving her away like she'd done something wrong . . . which she most definitely had not . . . seemed a sure fire way to totally destroy their relationship. As it was, he wasn't sure if his personal issues hadn't just completely fucked things up between them.

She was just trying help, and she was right. It probably would have helped . . . at least for a little while.

But in the long run, it would have been a bad idea.

With that thought, he leaned back and looked down.

"It's not going to be strange now, right?" He asked nervously.

What they'd just done was VERY different from their harmless . . . PG rated . . . holiday kisses. The activities that they'd engaged in tonight . . . even if they had stopped before they went all the way . . . were FAR from PG rated.

They'd been seconds away from triple X.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she sniffed, reaching up with both hands to try to wipe the worst of her lipstick off Hotch's face.

"No," her lip quirked up, "I promise that it's not going to be strange. Just like Vegas, what happens in the locked bathroom stall, stays in the locked bathroom stall."

Flashing her a half a dimple, Hotch leaned forward and gave her one last kiss. It was simply a gentle brush against her lips.

It was just a thank you.

But when he started to pull back, her hands came up and her fingers pressed lightly into his jaw. She smiled.

"I'll always be around if you want to talk," then she remembered her earlier offer and added with a wink, "and I'm around even if you don't."

It wasn't actually an offer to be a booty call, it was just a joke to remove any remaining tension. And she knew from the way Hotch's eyes crinkled, that he understood the difference. So she leaned in to kiss him one last time, first on the lips . . . and then on the forehead.

"It'll get better," she whispered. And then she pulled back. But seeing his eyes had started to get red again, she pulled him into one more embrace.

A minute later she felt him nod just as he patted her back. And she knew then that it was time to let him go.

Though she felt a bit like she was kicking a baby bird out of its nest.

She just hoped that he'd be okay.

As he leaned back, Hotch slowly exhaled. And then . . . even though he knew that she could get down on her own . . . he picked Emily up off the counter. There he placed her down onto the dirty tile floor and began guiltily dusting off her pants and smoothing down the wrinkles he'd made in her sweater.

For a second Emily said nothing, but then she stilled his hand and he looked up to see her lips twitching . . . though her face was getting a little flushed.

"That's really sweet Hotch," she started to laugh, "but if you keep rubbing your hands across my boobs, then we're going to be back in the same predicament we were a few minutes ago."

Though she'd tried to let him go for a second . . . it was obvious that he was just trying to smooth out her clothes . . . once she started to get turned on again, she knew that it was time to shut it down.

Hotch's eyes snapped down to Emily's chest. And seeing her nipples clearly outlined through the tight grey sweater . . . the nipple that was out of the bra cup, could have taken out his eye . . . he blushed, profusely.

"I'm sorry," his eyes fell shut for a second, "I don't do this very often." Then, realizing how _that_ sounded, he flapped his hand in exasperation. "I mean, you know, make out with women in the bathroom."

Emily giggled.

It was kind of too bad that they weren't going to have sex, because he really was too adorable when he was flustered.

That was a side of him she'd really never seen before.

But knowing that wasn't a particularly helpful thought at the moment . . . the goal was to knock her libido back into cold storage . . . she pushed it away. Then she reached out to throw her around Hotch's neck.

"Really, that's funny," she huffed against his shoulder, "because I make out with women in the bathroom all the time."

She was not going to let him leave here feeling awkward about any of it. So she was hoping that if she acted like she always did, just made a silly joke, then he'd get that they really were okay. And hearing him huff, right before he started to laugh, she knew that things were just fine. Then he kissed the top of her head and leaned back to look down at her.

There was a little sparkle in his eye . . . one that she'd seen far too infrequently in the past . . . and she was ridiculously proud of herself for putting it there. But they said nothing, just straightening up as they separated.

Then they both turned to look in the mirror to see how much of a mess they were.

They winced in unison.

"Good God Hotch!" Emily cried out in horror, "Look at us! Nobody's going to believe that we DIDN'T just have sex in the bathroom!"

Feeling a wave of despondence, her chin dropped to her chest.

"They're going to know."

Hotch groaned.

She was right. Between the crying and the kissing, all of her makeup was either gone or streaked. Not to mention their faces were still flush, their clothes were wrinkled . . . her bra was clearly half off . . . he had lipstick on his collar, his neck _and_ his shoulder.

And the less said about their hair, the better.

You just DON'T go back to a table full of behavioral analysts looking like they did! They might as well be wearing sandwich boards saying what they'd been up to! Hell even a bunch of NUNS could have figured out what they'd been up to!

And even after they had washed their faces and fixed their clothes . . . Hotch had to reconnect Emily's bra hooks after she'd tucked everything back into its proper place again . . . it was still obvious.

His fingers came up to rub his temple as tried to think of a solution to this rather unusual problem.

How to hide a wanton bar room bathroom make-out, from the rest of his team?

Wait . . . what had he actually left at the table? Just his jacket but . . . he patted his pockets, feeling his keys and wallet one side and his badge and credentials in the other . . . he had everything he needed with him. When he looked back up, he caught Emily's eyes in the mirror. She was trying to finger comb her hair.

"Did you bring your bag?"

She shook her head.

"No, no bag, and I didn't have a jacket." Then she seemed to get where he was going with the question. She turned to him, her expression brightening.

"Hey, do you think that we can really just leave?"

He nodded.

"Yeah . . . um," he bit his lip, thinking, "send JJ a text that you got sick and that I'm taking you home. Ask her to take my jacket and I'll get it from her tomorrow."

Immediately into her pocket to pull out her phone, Emily flashed him a brilliant grin.

"Oh, Hotch, you are a genius!"

Then she quickly typed the instructed message . . . the phone beeped back almost immediately. Emily read the response out loud.

"_We were starting to get worried about you two. I'll get Hotch's jacket. Feel better. JJ."_

Emily's eyes were sparkling as she gave him a relieved smile.

"We're clear."

Thank GOD! She would have rather taken a naked dip in the Potomac in the middle of February, than go back to that table right now!

Seeing Emily's face light up, Hotch couldn't help but stare at her for a moment.

God, she was so pretty. And for just a brief instant he regretted that he'd stopped. But he quickly shook that feeling off. Even if he hadn't had sex in awhile, a quickie in the bathroom with Emily . . . even if it was no strings . . . was still was a BAD idea.

Though it was nice that she'd offered, so in gratitude he graced her with a rare two dimpled smile right before turning to unlock the door. All the while thanking God that she'd had the foresight to hit the lock initially.

He opened it slowly, poking his head around the corner to make sure that the coast was clear before they exited.

It was.

Though that was the point that he realized it was a good thing that there were a larger set of restrooms on the other side of the bar. Otherwise they most definitely would have had company by that point.

So he gave the door a little push, and quickly guided Emily past him and into the little corridor. As he followed her out, he checked his watch for the first time since he'd sat down with his first beer.

Best he could tell, they'd been gone for maybe forty minutes.

It seemed longer.

Just then he heard Emily's stomach rumble, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"Would you like to go get some dinner?" Then he added drily, "it won't matter if _strangers_ think that we just had sex."

"Yeah," Emily shoved her hands into her pockets as she nodded, "that sounds good. I'm starving."

Though she knew there was food on the table, a couple of nachos so wasn't worth the grief they'd get! Or worse, not get. They'd just know what had happened, but not say anything to their faces.

That would SO much worse!

As they stepped out of the side hallway, and back into the crowd Hotch noticed Emily had started yawning. And he was reminded then, that they did just have a pretty emotionally draining experience. His brow furrowed slightly.

"Are you sure that you don't want to go right home?"

At that point he was absolutely starving . . . and very much would have liked to keep her company a bit longer . . . but he didn't want her to feel obligated to stay with him.

"No," Emily shook her head, "I really am hungry. I'll get a second wind in a minute." Then her lip quirked up and she gave him a sleepy smile, "it's just all the crying and the angsting kind of sucked my energy."

Hotch felt a stab of guilt.

The crying and angsting was entirely his fault. So before he could let himself think about what he was doing . . . if it was a bad idea or not . . he'd wrapped his arm around Emily's shoulder, and pulled her into his side.

Though it probably _wasn't_ a good idea to continue on with their more 'familial' interactions, he just couldn't help himself. And besides, he thought wryly, once he'd shoved his tongue into her mouth while groping her breasts . . . not to mention her grabbing his package . . . whatever personal 'no touching' rules they generally observed, had been pretty much shot to hell for that evening.

Tomorrow they'd go back to their usual boundaries. But tonight, he just needed their relationship to be something that it usually wasn't.

Tonight, he just needed her.

As they stepped outside, Hotch was immediately assaulted by the abrupt silence and the bite from the cold January air. And feeling Emily shivering against his side, he automatically began to rub his other hand down her arm.

He was trying to warm her up.

Funny, it was like a muscle memory. Something he just did by rote when he had his arm around a woman. And that was even though he hadn't had his arm around any woman but Haley for twenty years. But hell, it had been twenty years since he done _any_ of the things that he'd done tonight, with anyone but his wife.

But as he thought about it, he realized that he didn't feel guilty about any of it. He'd been legally separated for six months. And as a result of his wife finally filing for divorce, he'd made out with a pretty girl.

He suddenly snorted.

Clearly of the two acts, he thought with a chuckle to himself, Haley's was the more likely to cause the greater impediment to their future happiness as a couple.

Hearing Hotch begin to laugh, Emily tipped her head back up to look at him in amusement.

"What's so funny?"

Hotch stopped them in the middle of the parking lot, his eyes crinkling as he looked down at her.

"My life."

Seeing Emily's brow wrinkle in confusion, Hotch sobered even as his expression softened.

"You really did make feel better Emily," he kissed her cheek, "thank you."

Blushing slightly at Hotch's gratitude, Emily gave him a shy smile as she tucked her face against his chest.

That's when she realized that she was going to have to make a concerted effort tomorrow to _not_ touch him. Not that she was interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with Hotch. She really wasn't, for so many reasons.

Not the least of which was that he was still pining for his wife.

But they'd definitely gone where no BAU team members had gone before. Personal boundaries had not only been crossed, they'd been set ablaze and burned to the ground. And though she hoped that they wouldn't rebuild up any of their old emotional walls . . . she really liked this softer Hotch that she'd been bonding with these last few weeks . . . she did know that if they were going to work together as before, that they were going to have to build some _physical_ boundaries back up again.

But not tonight.

She yawned as he tightened his arm around her . . . she didn't have the energy.

As they resumed walking, Hotch looked down.

"Pizza or Chinese?"

Suddenly feeling utterly exhausted, Emily scrunched up her face while flopping her head against his chest.

"Um, Chinese."

Food of any kind should help her perk up again. For God's sake it wasn't even eight o'clock yet!

Hotch smirked.

"You want to go see your boyfriend Billy?"

Astounded at his amazing recall for a conversation that had happened two or three months ago, Emily laughed as she smacked his stomach.

"I can't believe that you remember that! But yeah, let's go see Billy. They have great sesame chicken."

Hotch's mouth twitched as he looked down at her.

"Agent Prentiss" he said seriously, "you do realize you just _hit_ me?"

He couldn't remember the last time anyone was so . . . familiar with him. It was really nice.

And probably something that he was going to miss in the morning.

Knowing Hotch's teasing tone . . . it was a rarity but it had come out before . . . Emily rolled her eyes as she looked back up at him.

"Yeah, well given you shoved your tongue down my throat _sir,_ I think we're even."

* * *

_A/N 2: Bet you didn't think you'd see that happening in this part of their lives! Well, I didn't either. It wasn't in the notes, but once she locked the bathroom door, it seemed a shame to waste a perfectly good opportunity to have them make out. But it worked for the story, because nothing in The Hours precluded that kind of incident in their past. And it's still six months until they start becoming real friends, i.e. have any real emotional connection, and they're just going to go on like this dalliance didn't happen. Or more to the point, that it didn't __mean__ anything. This also sets the tone for the AU in that they don't let things get weird. As long as they're both on the same page emotionally, and they address any elephants in the room, then their relationship doesn't have to be awkward. Sexual tension is great but you can't mine it for a year of their lives, it just gets annoying.  
_

_Now, there's another version of this chapter, and in that one, Hotch doesn't decide to stop and they __do__ have sex. And if you'd like to read that version, which I imagine some of you may, it's going to be the first chapter of a new story I've been writing. Sort of a 'spin off universe' where they get together under completely different circumstances. In that world she doesn't get cancer, she gets pregnant. But as that is a story, like The Hours, that will have a clear sequence of events to follow, I want to make sure it's completely done before it starts going up. That'll be awhile._

_I let Hotch play badass here because he's basically a mess all the way through this chapter and I wanted to show that he was completely off the grid for a little bit. The emotional rollercoaster was important to set up the prison episode coming up shortly where he's ready to tear a serial killer apart with his bare hands. Fairly un-Hotchlike behavior, so I needed to set the precedent that he's doing some un-Hotchlike stuff. I thought there should be a more minor incident before the prison so his 'uncharacteristic' behavior would be more 'in character.'_

_But even though I needed him to do that, I thought it was also important to show that Emily had already kicked the guy's ass, fairly brutally. I love Hotch as 'white knight' stories as much as the next fangirl, but I hate when Emily is just all damsely like she can't take care of herself. Or that he doesn't trust her abilities to take care of it herself. The appeal of Emily is that she can take care of herself. She goes through the door before Reid does, if Reid is even allowed out in field! Clearly her abilities are ranked quite high on the team. That's also why I let her get into a fight at a pool hall. The idea for that came from Arc's Fragmentary, though she wasn't at Smokey's because obviously he wouldn't have allowed that kind of behavior in his bar :) But I actually have a girlfriend who really did put a guy's head through a wall. It happens. He called her the C word. Cautionary tale if there are any men folk out there. Don't do that! Ever! One day some chick will crack your skull._

_And the next chapter is all done, so yay, I can post tomorrow! Reviews folks, they make me happy!  
_

_Next: __**"The Rebel & Winona Ryder"**_


	35. The Rebel & Winona Ryder

**Author's Note:** Barely a thousand words. It feels a little anti-climactic after the epic posting yesterday but, here we go. It's a one shot for the episode with the hit man and his daughter in witness protection. This is a missing scene as Emily and Hotch are leaving the movie theater.

* * *

_Episode – __3rd Life_

**The Rebel and Winona Ryder**

Their doors slammed shut and Emily turned to Hotch with her eyebrow raised.

"So what were you like in high school Hotch? Do anything scandalous?"

Quirking up his lip, Hotch slipped the key in the ignition and started the engine, "not that I recall."

Emily knew this was shaping up to be a crap case. The kind that stuck with them for awhile. With that poor girl's final screams . . . and the look on her father's face when he heard them . . . God, the case wasn't even over yet and that was _already_ haunting her. So Emily was desperately trying to find something to lighten the mood. To that end she tried prodding Hotch a little more.

"Oh come on sir, _nothing_?"

Hearing the pleading tone in her voice, Hotch glanced over, and then he saw the pinched lines around her mouth. This case was taking a toll on her, on all of them really. But after that night in the bathroom he'd made a vow to himself that he'd do whatever he could to be there for her like she'd been there for him. And right now he could see that she needed to not feel like crap. So he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he tried to think of something that would amuse her. He pursed his lips as he looked over.

"I once wore my Izod shirt untucked with the collar down," he raised an eyebrow, "does that count as scandalous?"

Rolling her eyes, Emily responded sarcastically, "only if you were at a Young Republicans Club meeting."

Hotch tipped his head slightly and Emily squealed in delight, "you DIDN'T? Wow! You are a rebel Mr. Hotchner! They must have ripped your alligator off for that." A ghost of a smile passed Hotch's lips, but as they pulled into traffic, the silence began to fill the car and he looked for something else to fill it.

"What about you Prentiss? Is there anything else noteworthy from your teen years besides the smoking?"

Emily smiled a little at Hotch's effort to make conversation for her sake. They'd been working together long enough that they could easily sit silently in a car for hours without it being weird or awkward. She pursed her lips as she tried to think back to the late 80s . . . there were plenty of things that happened that were 'noteworthy,' but given the intent of this conversation, lightening the mood, she figured she'd focus in on the extremely superficial.

She bobbed her head, "oh, yeah wait, I do have one." Her eyebrow went up as she cocked her head quizzically at him, "confidential between you and me sir?"

Hotch nodded, "Young Republican Club's honor Prentiss." Looking down, her mouth quivered for a second before she got it under control. He really could be quite amusing when he put his mind to it. She looked back over to him.

"I went through a bit of a 'Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice' phase.'"

Hotch did a mental rundown of what he remembered from that movie, and then he almost rear ended the car in front of them as he cried out in horror, "you tried to KILL yourself?"

Emily had turned to look out the window and whipped her head around in shock, "WHAT? NO, NO! GOD NO! I wasn't _suicidal!_"

Seeing Hotch relax slightly she clarified, "not _that_ aspect of the character. Just the look. I dyed my hair black, pale makeup," she thought back to how she remembered her high school yearbook picture and nodded firmly, "nothing too dramatic though." Then she recalled some other things that had happened back then, less appropriate for casual conversation, and she added quietly, "I was a bit rebellious."

Hotch glanced over at her tone and then looked back to the road as he exhaled, "well five minutes ago imagining you as _Vampira_ might have been slightly shocking, but that's fairly anti-climactic after putting the image in my head of you slicing your wrists." He added sarcastically, "thanks for giving me one more slide to add to the horror show Prentiss."

Emily winced as they stopped at a red light, "sorry sir. In my defense, it never occurred to me _that_ imagery would make you jump to _that_ conclusion."

Hotch's features softened as he looked over at her, "Prentiss all we deal in is death. That's ALWAYS the first conclusion I jump to." Emily looked sadly back over at him, "I suppose that's true," she bit her lip, "I am sorry Hotch, really."

Glancing over he could see she genuinely felt badly so he softened his features, "it's okay Prentiss. Don't worry about it."

As the light turned green he added drolly, "maybe tomorrow you can think of another way to scare the crap out of me." He tried to think of the least likely thing she'd do, "perhaps something involving you having sex with Reid in the bullpen."

In his peripheral vision Hotch saw Emily shrug and he slammed on the brakes as she yelled out laughing.

"KIDDING!"

He turned to glare at her as she shrugged innocently, "I'm sorry sir, it was just a joke." Shaking his head at her in irritation he again started moving the SUV. He'd be lucky if he didn't get pulled over for a drunk and disorderly.

Emily waited three beats before opening her mouth again, "like I would ever have sex with Reid in the bullpen, that's ridiculous." Leaning back against the seat she rolled her neck, "we did it on your desk." He flicked his eyes over and she gave him a kittenish look, "as YOU know, I like a door that closes."

Hotch slowly inhaled and then exhaled before hitting the directional and pulling over to the side of the road. He flipped the hazards before turning in his seat to give her an imploring look.

"Prentiss, you're killing me."

Quirking up her lip Emily gave him a sly glance out of the corner of her eye.

"I know sir . . . I know."

* * *

_A/N 2: I only had to add "you" to Emily's last shot at Hotch to make specific reference to the bathroom, but otherwise that whole line already worked. I was pleased._

_And if you'll recall Emily's actual high school yearbook picture from Tabula Rasa she was a little off with 'nothing too dramatic.' Rest assured, that lovely picture does make an appearance in the chapter already written for that episode._

_Unfortunately I didn't get the __next __chapter done yet though. Sorry. And it's a busy day tomorrow so I won't have time to finish it. However, I do have one almost ready to post in Life & Such. If I have the time to do a final edit on it then I'll put that up. Otherwise I'll see you on Saturday, hopefully here, if not over there._


	36. The Island of Misfit Toys

**Author's Note:** Hot off the presses! Just finished. This is the ep with the attention seeking female agent who thought she had a serial killer in her town. And she called the BAU, not necessarily so they could stop it, but so she could get some good press for herself. I think you can tell from my tone, didn't much care for her. That will become more apparent in the chapter. This is a post ep, back at the BAU the night they got home.

* * *

_Episode – __Limelight_

**The Island of Misfit Toys**

"Prentiss, what are you still doing here? It's after eleven."

Hitting the mute on the television remote, Emily looked up to see Hotch standing in the conference room doorway with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey. Yeah I know it's late. I was uh," she gestured towards the television, "watching the news."

Hotch actually hadn't meant to stay this late himself, he'd just lost track of the time catching up on his inbox. He stepped further into the room to see the screen.

It was the press conference with Agent Morris.

The completely unnecessary one where she stood there with her makeup perfectly done and a bandage on her forehead. And though he knew it was an unkind thought, that bandage seemed to be rather strategically placed for maximum sympathy. He rolled his eyes . . . strategic or not, he did not like that woman. It was obvious that she cared nothing for those victims, even after she nearly became one herself.

Rossi thought it was just the trauma, Hotch thought she was just a bitch.

And he didn't generally like to think of women in terms like that. But it was hard to think of a more appropriate description for someone who had such callous disregard for the victims.

"I do not like that woman."

Hotch flicked his eyes back to Prentiss . . . he used to find it unsettling when she blurted out something he had just been thinking. But he'd become accustomed to it now. Figuring it had something to do with working together, that you pick up other people's expressions.

And sometimes . . . if you spent enough time together . . . you picked up their thoughts and feelings as well.

He gave her a pensive stare . . . though that seemed a little odd in this instance because those feelings they were now sharing, appeared to be the opposite of her feelings earlier in the day.

For a moment Hotch as he wondered what had happened to change her mind. Then he grabbed one of the chairs and dragged up next to her seat by the television.

His brow was furrowed as he turned to her.

"I thought you told Morgan that you admired her."

Emily wrinkled her brow, "Morgan was talking about me?"

"No, well," Hotch tipped his head, "yes, but not in the negative connotation I'm assuming based upon your tone. We were talking in general about Agent Morris on the plane and he mentioned," he gave her a conciliatory look, "as an _alternate_ viewpoint, that you thought she was strong woman and people mainly had a problem with her style because she was a woman and not a man."

With a bitter huff and a roll of her eyes Emily sat back in her seat.

"Yeah I guess I did say something like that. It was before I found out she was a freak." Looking up she jabbed her hand at the screen, "I mean God Hotch look at her! Standing there giving a frigging press conference walking out of the hospital. That woman was dead. Dead! And Morris even had a personal relationship with her, and she still didn't give a shit! She just kept right on rolling, doing what was best for her, for her career." Shaking her head in disgust, Emily turned off the television, "she makes me sick."

Hotch narrowed his eyes . . . that was a lot of vitriol being spewed for a woman whose strength of character really wasn't worth that much of her energy. He looked at her for a second before asking, "why is this bothering you so much? It is unlikely we'll have to deal with her again."

Emily sighed dejectedly, "I know, it's just . . ." she automatically flicked her eyes back to the empty screen, "she's Strauss." He blinked, and it hit him, she was totally right. She was Strauss. Well, if Strauss had ever been in the field.

She turned back to him, "you know Hotch, just between you and me," he nodded as she dropped her gaze to the floor, "I don't know of one woman here that's in a real position of power that I respect. And . . . I have to tow the feminist line that they're just criticized because they're strong women, but Hotch," she looked at him, "that's not it. They're backstabbing, opportunistic shrews." She looked at him despondently, "and that just SUCKS. It just perpetrates the stereotype that women can't get ahead unless they're cold hearted bitches who step on everyone in their path. But for some reason the stereotype is the rule here. And I don't understand it. I mean it's not the case with the field agents. But for some reason, once the women in this agency start getting a taste for power they go nuts."

Hotch leaned back in his chair as he started chewing his lip.

"Well, I don't personally think that all the female chiefs are 'bad.' Just off the top of my head, I'm thinking of Miranda Unger and Laura Shea, they're exceptional. And if you don't know them, I could introduce you. But if you think it's a real problem that there's a dearth of positive women in command, then you could change that. Why don't you start moving up the chain? Give the younger female agents a good role model. I think you'd make an excellent chief."

Turning slightly, she slowly raised her eyebrow, "you trying to get rid of me?"

Shaking his head slowly, he looked back, "no . . . no I am most definitely not trying to get rid of you. His eyes crinkled, "to borrow one of your phrases Prentiss, it would 'seriously suck' if you left the unit."

She quirked up her lip, "thanks sir, ditto."

He flashed her half a dimple before he went back to his point, "now that said, I do want you to be happy, and if you're interested in maybe pursuing the managerial path, now's the time to start putting feelers out." He thought back, "I think I was a year older than you when I made chief and unfortunately there really aren't any opportunities to move around within the BAU. Well, at least not right now." He looked back over to her, "and I know earlier this year I had asked you to stay, but with Dave here now, we're not so short handed. We have a bit more stability. Really Prentiss, if you want to do something else," he gave her a pointed look, "I hope I'm not standing in your way."

Hotch knew that she was capable of great things, and he didn't want her to stay solely out of loyalty to the unit, or worse, because he'd made her feel guilty.

Emily looked at him for a second, then, rubbing her hands together she dropped her eyes to the floor.

"I don't want to leave," she said softly, "this is my family," she looked back over to him, "I don't really get along well with my mom, and my dad travels, well . . . I haven't seen my dad in probably three months. He's been away that long. And I don't have any siblings or close friends outside the team." She bobbed her head, "I mean I do have friends that I go drinking with sometimes, or," she shot him a quick grin, "play pool, but," she sobered, "honestly, I'd be pretty lonely if I left the unit."

Embarrassed that she'd said so much, Emily looked away as she finished quietly, "I suppose that sounds kind of pathetic."

She actually thought it was beyond pathetic, and it wasn't until he proposed the possibility of moving on to something else, that she knew . . . moving on meant leaving her life behind.

Yeah, she'd done it when she'd transferred in the past. Hell, she'd been doing it her entire life. All she ever did was make connections with people and then sever them brutally six months or a year later when her mother got reassigned. And then, eighteen years of that, she was so fucked up that she didn't know how to have real, long term relationships with anyone. So she chose a job that had the same demands, the same lifestyle, the same automatic out, so she wouldn't ever get too close.

But since she'd arrived at the BAU, she'd finally found a place where everybody else felt kind of like a misfit too. They were all screwed up and broken in different ways.

She quirked her lip up sadly . . . 'the island of misfit toys,' that was her team. She sighed . . . that was her family.

And just the thought of leaving them now was unbearable.

They'd survived Reid's abduction, Gideon's awful departure, the Strauss fiasco, Garcia's shooting, and now, she sighed, Hotch's divorce. It wasn't final yet, but they all knew it was coming. Well, everyone knew but Hotch. And it was going to hit him like a freight train. She wanted to ask him how that was going, if he'd talked to Haley or seen his son.

Those were all topics off limits though. That night in the bathroom was an aberration. She was there with him at a weak moment, and even then he said very little . . . with words anyway. No, Hotch didn't talk about his life. Though she supposed that she didn't either. Occasionally she did, but mostly she only discussed superficial things.

But fortunately . . . and unfortunately . . . working with profilers, you really didn't have to talk about things. They just knew. And she just knew that Hotch's wife was gone.

And he wasn't getting her back.

Hotch felt a pang of empathy for her . . . if anyone could relate to that moment of revelation that you no longer have a life beyond your work, it would be him. And he wanted to reach out and touch her. Just to let her know that he understood what she was feeling.

That he felt that way too.

But since that night in the bar, they'd both been careful to maintain a physical distance. Life or death situations were different, but for the most part they both knew they needed to let those boundaries rebuild.

Though as he watched her stare off in the distance he realized something . . . she was the one that had broken those boundaries for him. Because in that moment, she knew it was the right thing to do. And with that thought, he reached out, running his fingers down her forearm before grasping her hand. Then he tugged.

"Come on, it's time to go home."

Feeling the warmth of his flesh, Emily turned to look at the man who was more than just her boss. A man whose label, and role in her life, were without definition.

His eyes were soft . . . kind . . . so without a word she stood, letting him lead her from the room.

As they walked through the darkened, empty halls to the elevator, she realized who he was. On their island of misfits, Hotch was their king. And as she looked down to her hand still clasped in his she knew one thing would always be true.

She would follow him anywhere.

* * *

_A/N 2: I personally couldn't stand Agent Morris. I thought she was just an awful person. And unfortunately I've known many women who were in positions similar to hers that were just like her. They do perpetuate the stereotype, but they don't care because they're already in charge. Oy. _

_And if you're not familiar with the Island of Misfit Toys, it's a very old Christmas cartoon. And there is a king. His name is King Moonracer, he's the one that gathers the misfit toys together and he decides who stays and who goes on the island.__ I thought that fit Hotch well.  
_

_Anyway, next chapter is going to be a major one. Hotch finally signs the divorce papers. But first I'm giving him a big last hurrah conversation with Haley. That part of the chapter is, though still rough, pretty much already written. But I need to do the post prison, signing the papers follow-up. And this is clearly going to be a 'heavier' chapter so I'd rather take the time to get it right. That said, I will make every effort to get it up tomorrow. With the Haley portion already written, if it looks like the second half is going to get lengthy maybe I'll just post the beginning and do it as a two parter. No promises, but I'll try to get something up by tomorrow night. _

_Reviews might help the muse. She hasn't decided what Hotch and Emily are going to talk about after he signs the papers :)_

_Next: __**"This is the Way the World Ends"**_


	37. This is the Way the World Ends

**Author's Notes:** I actually finished all of it! Yay!

Super, huge abundant thanks to my lovely beta Arcadya for help with this chapter. It was a MESS last night! I wrote like three versions of this first segment and they all had a different tone to them because I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted to do. And she very sweetly pointed out exactly where I was tripping up and that helped me figure out what I _did_ want to say.

This is a pre-ep and a post-ep for the prison episode where Hotch wanted to rip a serial killer apart with his bare hands. The first part sort of sets up what could have happened to put him in that mindset. And please, keep an open mind as you read the first section. I did something that perhaps you weren't expecting. I'll explain at the end.

* * *

_Episode – __Damaged_

**This is the Way the World Ends**

"Aaron there's nothing more to discuss. I want a divorce."

Hotch started pacing back and forth across the living room. Shaking his head he looked over at Haley, "I refuse to accept that."

He had come over to his sister-in-law's house in a last ditch effort to hash things out with his wife but, it wasn't working. She was just giving up. He knew their problems were serious but that didn't mean they couldn't find a way to fix this. She was throwing away twenty years of their life. How could she do that without exhausting EVERY possible means of fixing it?

Haley knew that set to his jaw, he was getting entrenched for a long bloody fight. Sighing, she dropped her head, she didn't want to fight. She just wanted this to be over. Then they could both move on. It had already been months since they'd separated. More than a half year. But they'd never be able to move on as long as he thought there was a chance to fix things. She'd once thought that way too, when she first left. But she'd given it so much thought, and she understood now, they'd been on this collision course for some time. And there was only one thing she could think that might make him understand. But just the thought of saying it gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She never wanted him to know, it was going to hurt him. But if she was going to do this, she needed to be blunt. She needed him to jump to the _worst_ conclusion immediately. It was the only way that she might get through to him. Closing her eyes, she sent up a silent prayer that this would work, that she wouldn't just be causing him needless pain. Then she cleared her throat as she looked at him.

"Aaron, there was another man in my life."

Stopping short in the middle of the room, Hotch felt all the air go out of his lungs. Turning to her, he said softly, "you had an affair?"

Haley shook her head vehemently, "that's _not_ what I said. It wasn't an affair. It was . . ." she looked down as she tried to think of the word for it, "a mistake. It was a mistake." Looking back up she made sure she caught his eyes, "I did not _do_ anything with him."

Stunned, he just stared at her. A MISTAKE! How could his wife have made a 'MISTAKE' with another man and he hadn't known about it! He was a fucking behavioral expert! And what the hell did she mean she didn't 'do' anything? If she hadn't 'done' anything then she wouldn't have felt the need to bring it up. And she must have done SOMETHING to warrant calling it a mistake. He shot her a furious look.

"Who was it?"

Sighing, Haley shook her head, "it doesn't matter. My point in telling you was, there was a time when you were my whole world. And . . ." she looked at him sadly, "that time has passed."

But at that moment Hotch didn't much care about her point. He cared about her 'mistake.' And seeing her dismissive shake, Hotch felt a burst of rage that he couldn't control.

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO DROP SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON ME AND THEN DECIDE THE DETAILS DON'T MATTER! NOW YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHO IT WAS, AND WHAT YOU DID!"

Haley leapt back, her eyes widened in fear. And as Hotch saw her reaction, it was enough to douse his anger completely. She was afraid of him. His wife was afraid of him. And why wouldn't she be? She'd never heard him yell like that before. Very few people had heard him yell like that before. That was a tone usually reserved for his other life, and it was never supposed to intersect with this one.

Closing his eyes he slowly counted to ten before opening them again and saying quietly, "Haley, I _need_ to know."

Haley looked over at him worriedly. That man that was just in the room . . . he was not her husband. She'd never seen him before. But she was starting to have an inkling of Aaron's other life . . . it was worse than she'd ever thought. She took a breath.

"Okay, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. But Aaron, please, no more yelling."

Nodding Hotch crossed his arms at his chest, "no more yelling, I promise." He could promise not to do it again, but somehow he couldn't find it in him to say sorry for the first time. Even though he knew he should at least apologize for scaring her.

Still eyeing him warily, Haley sat back, moving far into the corner of the couch.

"His name was Lawrence. I met him in Jack's play group and sometimes a group of us, mothers mostly, but one or two fathers, would go out for coffee afterward. Then the group started to whittle down a little, and it started to be just the two of us." Hotch cut in, "when was this?" Closing her eyes briefly she tried to think, "maybe around the Super Bowl."

The Super Bowl! Hotch stared over in astonishment. Jesus Christ! That was over a year ago. Just before Reid was abducted, not that Haley ever knew about that. So he'd kept that from her, and she'd kept this from him. He rolled his eyes internally, yeah, that seems a fair trade. He focused back in on what she was saying.

". . . nothing though, we would talk about the kids, the other parents, what happened in the group. It went on like that for a month or so, it was just casual, but then one day I started talking about other things . . . more substantive things." She looked up sadly at him, "things I would have liked to talk to you about. Books, movies, politics and he . . .," she dropped her eyes, "he listened to me. He paid attention to me and . . . it was nice. It made me feel good." She looked up imploringly, "it was just talking though." She sighed, "and then one day he started telling me about his wife, and how they were having problems, and then . . . I started telling him about us."

Hotch looked over in disbelief, "you _talked_ about me?" His wife was talking about him with another man. What the fuck!

Seeing the look on his face, Haley shook her head vehemently, "not like that, just that you traveled a lot and it was causing a strain. I never said anything bad about you. It was just the situation I was frustrated with." She rubbed her hands together nervously as she looked up, "you just don't understand how lonely I was. You weren't here and when you were here, you were always distracted. I know you tried to cover it, but I could see that there was always something else pulling your attention. And, with your work, I just . . . I just felt that everything that I wanted to talk about with you was . . . trivial and unimportant."

Hurt at the accusation, Hotch said quietly, "I _never_ said that."

Haley nodded, "I know, you didn't. But God Aaron, you might not have talked about your work, but I knew what cases you were working on. Wherever you traveled, I'd go online and read the local paper. And if you came home after finding three women raped and murdered in a landfill, how was I really going to bring up the cost of diapers or that I'd seen a new TV show that I'd liked."

Hotch felt his eyes sting, "but Haley those were the things I wanted to know. When I came home, I didn't want to live in that other world anymore. I wanted to live in this one . . . with you."

"Well I didn't know that, because you didn't tell me that," she felt her eyes begin to water, "you didn't tell me ANYTHING!"

Taking a breath she tried to get her emotions back under control. In a quieter tone she continued, "I missed feeling important. And I wanted a grownup to talk to again. And in the beginning it was fun, I had a friend. He happened to be a male friend, but I didn't think that was a problem because you have Emily and JJ."

For a moment Hotch felt a horrible stab of guilt at what he'd done with Emily, but then he remembered, that was after Haley had filed for divorce. She was talking about things that happened before they even separated. Before HE even knew they were having serious problems! Definitely not even on the same planet of offenses.

He said angrily, "are you _accusing_ me of something?"

"No! God no! I just meant that you spend all of your time with these women, beautiful women I might add, and I was never jealous," she tipped her head, "that's not true, I was jealous of the time they spent with you but I never thought you were doing anything inappropriate. So, initially the fact that my first new friend in years was a man, didn't seem inappropriate to me. I trusted you, so why wouldn't you trust me."

Hotch glared at her, "but the difference is Haley, you _knew_ about JJ and Prentiss," He could feel himself getting angrier, "you MET them. I never met your 'friend.' I never even heard about him before! How does that _look_ Haley?"

Sighing, Haley dropped her head into her hands, "I know how it looks Aaron. It looks bad. And I didn't do it on purpose. In the beginning it just never came up. Honestly," she looked up at him, "it didn't seem that important. But then . . ."

Hotch braced himself for whatever was about to follow that phrase.

"But then, we started fighting more, and my friend, he and his wife separated and he started making some . . . overtures towards me that, well, I hadn't been expecting."

Hotch could feel his blood pressure surge. But he kept his promise, and he kept his temper, as he asked with a lethal calm, "and what did _you_ do?"

Haley looked at him somberly, "I never cheated on you Aaron, I told him no. I said I was married. But . . . I was flattered, so rather than breaking off our friendship, which," she huffed out her breath, "I know now I should have done, I continued to see him a few times a month." She gave him a hard look, "still _just_ for coffee. We were out in public and the kids were always there, napping after their group, so it seemed okay. Though given the overtures he made, after that point I suppose my omission of him was deliberate. But not because I felt guilty, it just seemed like a can of worms that didn't need to be opened. But then," she took a breath, this was the hard part, "then you got suspended, and at first I thought FINALLY, a chance for us to fix things. To start over, to go back to what we had before, but I didn't realize it was already too late for that. And that morning, when I found you looking at those photos after you promised me it was all done, I got so angry . . ." her voice dropped, "so angry. And I called him, and I asked him to meet me."

Looking down, she dug her nails into her hand, "I just wanted to vent. I just wanted that experience of being listened to. But, the kids weren't there and . . ."

As she trailed off Hotch closed his eyes and said in a whisper, "what happened Haley?" He honestly wasn't sure he _wanted_ the answer to that question but, he either way he knew needed it.

She cleared her throat, "he tried to kiss me . . . and . . . and," her eyes began to burn, "I was so angry with you that just for a second, when he was leaning in, I thought good, this will hurt him." She felt the tears begin to spill down her face, "but then I pictured you with Jack and . . .," she started to sob and her voice broke, "I felt so ashamed! I didn't want that. I _never_ wanted that," she took in a gasp of air as she tried to stop crying, "so I pulled away before he reached me, and I stepped back, and I told him that wasn't why I had called him. And I left him there in the park."

Wiping the tears off her face she sniffled, "and I came home, and you were packing. You were leaving again after you promised me that it was done. And that was the moment I knew . . . our marriage was over. After you left for Milwaukee I called Lawrence and told him that I didn't want to see him anymore. I took Jack out of the group and I haven't spoken to him since."

She was silent for a moment as she looked down, pulling her thoughts together. Then she looked up, "I'm not leaving you for another man Aaron. I'm leaving you because there _was_ another man in my life, and you," she gave him a sad smile, "a world famous profiler, wasn't even around enough to notice. I think that's part of the reason I continued the friendship after the point that I knew he wanted something more. I wanted to see if you'd notice," her voice faded, "I wanted to see if you cared. But you spent more time reading serial killers than your own wife."

She could see that he was hurt. And angry, which she had been expecting and it couldn't be helped. But she still wasn't sure if he understood _how_ this all came to be.

Sighing she stood up and walked over to him, her heart clenching slightly when he stepped back. She wanted this to be over, but that still hurt. But she respected his wishes and kept a distance between them as she asked her question.

"How many people call you Aaron?"

Hotch shook his head angrily at her, "what are you talking about?"

"Just indulge me for a moment Aaron. Besides me, who else in your life calls you by your first name?"

Hotch stared at her for a second as he thought about the question. Hardly anyone called him Aaron anymore. Occasionally Dave did, but mostly it was just his family and Haley's. But what did that matter?

He scowled at her, "I don't understand why you think the answer is important."

She smiled sadly at him, "don't you see? The man I married, Aaron Francis Hotchner, he doesn't exist anymore. You're Special Agent Hotchner or," she huffed, "'Hotch'. You know I realize now the day you got that nickname, that was the day I started to lose you."

Taking another step back, he shook his head in bewilderment, "that wasn't in the BAU. I got that nickname in SWAT."

Haley nodded, "exactly, before that you were just an attorney. And you seemed happy enough doing the work, but then you left the USAO and joined SWAT, and you got a taste for the adrenaline," she turned away, "and that was the beginning of the end."

Hotch blinked hard, and his voice was gravel when it came out, "Haley that was over a decade ago."

She nodded, "I know, this wasn't overnight Aaron. It was gradual, and it's been a long time coming. Things lasted as long as they did because we loved each other and you made compromises, and I made compromises, but really Aaron, we've reached the end of the rope. Neither one of us can give up any more ground. This is it," she looked hard at him, "_this_ is the end."

Walking over to the table she picked up the envelope that had been prepared for him, and then she turned back and caught his eyes. What she saw in them made her chest hurt. But she ignored it as she cleared her throat.

"I need you to sign these papers and we can move on. No more lawyers, no wasting of money, there's no point in drawing it out." She crossed the room again and stopped in front of him. Making sure to leave a three foot barrier between them she looked up at him as he stared down at her. It was only a gap of three feet but it felt like fathoms. She'd loved him for so long . . . so long. Feeling her eyes begin to burn again she knew she had to get this done. Her arm felt like it was made of lead, but she lifted it, extending the envelope to him.

"Our life together is over."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Emily went up to Hotch's office, knocking on his open door as she poked her head around the corner.

"Hotch I'm taking off."

Hotch blinked in confusion as he looked up at her, "I'm sorry. What did you say Prentiss?"

Frowning Emily stepped further into his office, "um, I said I was going to go home now." She cocked her head, "are you okay? You look kinda funny."

Hotch's eyes involuntarily dropped down to the gold band sitting in the middle of his desk. Emily, following his gaze, saw the glint, and sucked in a breath as she realized immediately what it meant. The freight train had finally hit. Shit. She walked over to one of his visitor's chairs and sat down. Debated saying something and then didn't. She just waited as she did that night in the bar when he ran his fingers over the bruise on her shoulder. She waited for him to figure out what he needed to figure out, and then she'd decide what she was going to do.

Hotch knew Prentiss was still in the room but his eyes remained glued to the ring. It all just seemed so anti-climactic. After all these months of fighting and hoping and praying that his marriage could be saved. All that emotion and then he gets to this moment where he finds out that it can't, and . . . it's just paperwork. It seemed like there should be something more.

It's a big production when you get married. There's a ceremony. Somebody officiates, people come and bear witness that you're joining your lives together. But then, when those lives break apart, it's just you, sitting alone in a room signing your name like you have a thousand times before. Except when you put your name on _this_ piece of paper, your life as it was ceases to be. And he did that. He signed his name. And nobody even saw it happen.

It was just over.

The only thing he could think to do was slip off his ring. And he'd been staring at it for a good fifteen minutes before Prentiss walked into his office. Prentiss. He snapped his eyes back up. She was just looking at him. He wanted to be angry that she was seeing him like this . . . weak . . . broken. But she'd certainly seen him lower than this a couple months ago. He'd gone to that prison so angry, at his life, at his choices, at what Haley had done. And though part of him felt betrayed, mostly he just felt like a fool. It turned out his marriage had been slipping out of his grasp for almost a decade and he hadn't seen it. Not once. Not one sign. What kind of a fucking moron doesn't see one flashing warning sign that he's about to drive off a cliff?

He was furious with himself. And for the reality that it was done. Her words echoing in his head 'our life together is over.' Over. What did that mean?

No more anniversaries, no more Christmases, no more Sunday mornings in bed. No more anything. No more.

And he just wanted someone to pay for that. For all of that being taken away from him. And then that fucking asshole started taunting him and he thought, good, let's go. It was stupid and reckless, and he knew both those things at the time he was rolling up his sleeves and taking off his tie. And still . . . he didn't give a shit. It wasn't until afterwards that he realized, he could have gotten Reid killed. His own rage had blinded him to the fact that he was putting someone else's life in danger. Because if Reid hadn't distracted Chester from that fight, those guards would have opened that door to a bloodbath. Of that Hotch had no doubt.

The only question that came to him later was one body or two. Because Hotch knew that the first opportunity he got, he would have rammed Chester's thick black eyeglass frames straight into his throat. That was a fact. But quite possibly before that happened, Reid would have tried to help him. He would have tried to stop him. And that's the version of the story that made Hotch sick. Reid would have tried to stop him. Because that's what Hotch would have done if one of them was out of control. And Reid would have gotten hurt, possibly killed, all because Hotch had lost his temper. And when that realization hit him on the way out of the prison, he'd almost thrown up. He'd tried to apologize in the car. He knew it was a shit apology though. There was no explanation that was in any way a satisfactory excuse for his behavior. But Spencer's a good kid. And he didn't hold his colossal fuck up against him. Even though he had every right to be furious with him . . . he let it go.

And because of that humbling example that his junior agent set for him, when Hotch got back to the office he knew, it was time to let his own rage go. To accept this new reality and move on. And he did, he accepted it, and he signed his name, and he took off his ring. But now . . . he didn't know what to do next. Because sitting there staring at his wedding band didn't really seem to be a viable means of whittling away the next twenty or thirty years of his life.

He flicked his eyes back up to Emily. She was still just staring at him, not saying a word. But he didn't see pity in her eyes, just concern. Always . . . just concern.

Emily was relieved that this time when Hotch looked up it appeared that he actually saw her. Because a few moments ago, she knew, he was looking right through her. She wanted to get him out of there. It was early, barely five-thirty and there were a lot of people still working. She didn't want anyone else walking in and finding him in this state. He wouldn't want anyone seeing him like this. And if she hadn't once had him sob in her arms then she would have walked out the door immediately when she realized what had happened.

But now she felt responsible for him. She was the only person in the bureau that had ever seen him like that, and if she had anything to say about it she was the only one that ever would. So she tried to think of someplace to take him. Someplace where nobody knew him. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she leaned forward.

"Sir, would you like to go play some pool?"

* * *

_A/N 2: I actually got the idea to do this chapter after Denaliyasha pointed out something interesting to me that took place in In Birth & Death. The house phone rings, Hotch answers, nobody's there. Then immediately after he hangs up, Haley's cellphone rings and she ignores it. Interesting. I didn't notice the first time I saw it. Now you could make an inference that maybe something was going on there. Or not. Could have been nothing. And I've spent all this time making Haley sympathetic so I wasn't going to turn around and make her a cheater. But I thought it was an intriguing idea to give her a friend that she hadn't told Hotch about. Someone that came into her life because she was lonely, and clearly she would have been incredibly lonely all by herself home with the baby. And something innocent inadvertently became something messy. I thought it was realistic. As I said to Arc, something isn't a big deal, then it is a big deal and you lost your window to mention it back when it didn't matter so now you're keeping a secret you never meant to keep. But the fact that she did keep it was going to hurt Hotch terribly. And I needed, unfortunately, to hurt Hotch because something major had to happen to get him to that point that he snapped when Chester got in his face. I also needed something major to slap him across the face just so he'd let it go and accept the marriage was over. _

_And next, I have been given permission to borrow a character from Arcadya's story Fragmentary. Hotch and Emily will be playing pool at Smokey's :) That chapter isn't on paper yet but it's all done in my head so the writing should go quickly, which means hopefully it'll be up tomorrow. And excellent news! I'm in such good shape now, only two chapters left in season three that need any work. So barring some major incident, I think we'll be blowing Hotch up by the weekend! Which means AU and consistent posting for at least a couple weeks! Yay!_

_Please let me know what you think about how I handled the big disintegration of their marriage. I tried to fill in the missing bits that that the show didn't. You know I like to go for realism in my fake world :)_

_Next: __**"Last Call"**_


	38. Last Call

**Author's Note**: Another monster chapter. Bigger than the last monster! I had a clear vision for it beforehand but they just kept deciding they wanted to do more stuff.

Because I didn't want to have to think of yet another idea to go around this episode specifically, I just made this a really, really, pre-episode chapter. Takes place probably like a week beforehand :) But I do make reference to Hotch going to visit Jack at some point so I didn't break my own rule, I did actually tie it together with the episode.

As I said yesterday, I have been given Arcadya's blessing to borrow her bar, and her character Smokey, from her story Fragmentary. I took Lucas too. If you read that story you'll notice some similarities in our characterizations, but I did add in a little bit more of my own back story for him because this is a different universe and without H/P being abducted and Smokey helping to search for them, I needed to find another means to bond a law & order gal like Prentiss to a known criminal like Smokey. So I gave him a little tragedy. And Arc has read this chapter and given it a thumbs up, so I hope if any of you out there are currently fans of Smokey's that you still like him after I'm done with playing him too :) Thanks Arc!

**Allusions**: Chp. 35 "Rebel & Winona Ryder"

* * *

_Episode – __A Higher Power_

**Last Call**

Emily glanced over to Hotch sitting in the passenger seat of her car.

He was staring out the window.

Honest to God it was the first time he'd ever let her drive anywhere. But he was so distracted that she didn't think he was really in any condition to be operating a motor vehicle. Fortunately, he seemed to get that and didn't protest when she suggested they take her car.

She was rather amazed at the concession.

Really she'd just been happy enough that he'd agreed to leave with her. When she suggested that they go play pool he'd just looked at her for a second and then huffed slightly as he said, "sure." Then he'd looked back down at his ring, mumbling to himself, "at least that's something to do."

She wasn't quite sure what that meant . . . but she didn't like it.

So before he changed his mind . . . or anybody else came looking for him . . she'd gone out and grabbed her stuff. Then she'd hustled Hotch out the door with just the coat on his back.

He'd barely said a word the whole trip.

It wasn't the same she was observing as the night that he'd been served with his papers. He didn't necessarily seem depressed, but he'd definitely been subdued for the entire ride. But now that she'd just pulled off the Beltway . . . and he'd processed where they were . . . he'd definitely perked up.

And not in a good way.

"_This_ is where you go to play pool!" Hotch sputtered in disbelief.

With a nonchalant nod, Emily hit her directional and smoothly merged into the rush hour traffic cutting through this quadrant of The District.

These cars were heading home to the suburbs of PG County.

And though she was trying to not make the location a big deal, out of the corner of her eye Emily saw that Hotch was still looking at her. But she'd expected that he might have a problem with her choice of locale for her extracurricular activities.

She snapped her eyes over to him for a second, "I'm always armed," she looked back out the windshield, "it's really not a problem."

For her anyway . . . we'll see how long it remained a problem for him.

Hotch shook his head as he sat back against the seat . . . Anacostia. She goes off by herself . . . at _night_ . . . to play pool in _Anacostia_.

The most dangerous part of the city.

_Oh, but wait, she's armed! So clearly he has nothing to be concerned about!_

He tapped his fingers anxiously against the door.

"Do you wear your vest too?" He asked drolly.

Emily's lips twitched as she checked her rear view mirror.

"Uh, no," she spared him another glance, "I do not _generally_ wear my Kevlar during a spirited game of billiards. Believe it or not, I play a version with just balls and sticks, no bullets."

"Just know Prentiss," Hotch grumbled in response, "if I ever get the call to come and identify your body in the city morgue I'm going to be pissed."

Emily nodded seriously, "got it sir, if I get killed you're never going to speak to me again."

Hotch's mouth quivered for a second before he got it under control. Then he shook his head at her . . . she just grinned back at him.

Sometimes he just didn't know what he was going to do with her. She drove him absolutely crazy. But he was grateful at least that she was the one that had walked through that door and not anyone else on the team . . . or God forbid . . . anybody _outside_ the team.

He and Emily had shared an odd bond since that night in the bathroom, and he trusted her implicitly to keep his confidences. So though he wouldn't have sought her out tonight . . . he never sought anyone out to discuss his problem . . . he wasn't at all sorry to see her.

Especially given that there was a whole unit of people that were regularly popping into his office. And it really wouldn't do for any of them to come in and see their chief sitting there like he just had a freaking lobotomy.

Fortunately once he'd been able to break his gaze away from his wedding ring, he'd been able to somewhat pull himself back together.

Hmm, maybe it was one of those evil rings from Mordor. He snorted to himself . . . he should have left it on his desk for the hobbits to collect. But unfortunately, instead of leaving it for the hobbits, he'd jammed it into his pants pocket. He didn't know why. Obviously he couldn't leave it out, everybody would have known his business by morning. And he didn't like anyone to ever know his business. But he really should have just put it in his desk drawer until he figured out what to do with it.

At present it was just burning a hole in his pocket.

And now he was on his way to play pool with Emily in her favorite bar. _Not_ the bar where she'd broken the guy's head. She mentioned that when they got into the car. No, this was the 'good' bar. He watched another gated liquor store roll past his window . . . now he was curious where that other bar was.

Baghdad perhaps.

He flicked his eyes over to her as she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear.

His expression softened slightly as he realized then that this was really a big deal that she was sharing this part of her world with him.

Really, she was almost as private about her personal life as he was.

And as that thought came to him, he decided to make an effort not to be too grumpy about the neighborhood. After all, he'd already made his point about it being dangerous. And she had to have known before she brought him here that he was going to say something.

So really, his point had probably already been made before he even opened his mouth.

That was the moment where Emily hit her directional again, a second later she turned down a side street.

She stopped in front of a fairly nondescript one story building with no windows and no sign.

There was nothing at all special about it, but as Hotch stared at it, he somehow felt it was familiar. And his brow furrowed slightly as he turned to look at Emily.

"Is this Smokey's?"

"Yeah, it is actually," Emily put the car in park as she turned to him with a quizzical look, "you know this place?"

With a nod, Hotch looked back out the window, "yeah nineteen, twenty years ago, there was a huge brawl here," he unclicked his seat belt, "rival gangs, they'd met up in here and it spilled out into the street."

Emily pulled the keys from the ignition, "yeah, I read about it. I did some research on the place when I started coming here."

Hotch shot her a pointed look.

"So you know then that three of the gang members were beaten to death with blunt objects and two of the responding officers were injured so severely they had to be hospitalized?"

Yes, he had decided to make an effort to drop his concerns about the neighborhood . . . but that was before he knew just how bad this place was.

As her teeth sunk into her lip Emily turned to face Hotch . . . of course he would know the full history of the place off the top of his head.

Why wouldn't he?

"I do know that," she responded calmly, "but since '96 they haven't had one call to this address for anything more serious than a drunken & disorderly," she gave him a soft smile, "I know you're worried about me coming here alone, but I did my homework Hotch. It's safe."

He looked at her for a second and then tipped his head. He trusted her judgment. It didn't mean he wouldn't be concerned about her being in the neighborhood, but if she said the bar was all right, then, well, the bar was all right. He opened his door and stepped out onto the street, sweeping his eyes around the area.

Nothing caught his eye that caused him any alarm. That wouldn't have been the case twenty years ago, but back then this area had been nearly decimated by the crack epidemic. But recently developers had been making an effort to 'gentrify' the more dilapidated parts of the city.

Basically they were just trying to buy up cheap real estate in poor neighborhoods so they could turn a quick profit.

But there actually were beautiful old buildings in some of the worst neighborhoods. The exact same architecture that you could find in Georgetown was in SE as well. The difference being one had been lovingly cared for and the other was crumbling and covered with spray paint and in many cases, puttied in bullet holes.

It was kind of sad when you thought about it.

After he'd slipped off his suit jacket, Hotch turned back to the car and dropped it on the seat. Then he slammed the door shut and started rolling up his sleeves.

When his gaze caught with Emily's over the roof of the car, she smiled at him . . . he immediately quirked his lip up in response. Sometimes that happened with her . . . the amusement thing . . and it was completely involuntary.

It bugged him a little.

Well, not her. _She_ didn't bug him. It was just that he usually had better control than that, and he couldn't figure out why that wasn't necessarily the case when it came to Emily Prentiss.

He shook his head . . . eventually he'd figure it out.

Emily walked around the front of the car to join Hotch on the sidewalk. She looked at him for a second and then scrunched up her face slightly, "you're going to be good, right?" Then she flashed him her best puppy dog eyes, "for me?"

And by 'good' she just meant make every effort not to kill anyone while they were there.

Hotch's lip's twitched as he nodded back.

"Yes Prentiss, I will be," he made mocking air quotes, "'good.'"

Her eyes crinkled in response as her hand involuntarily went down and slid over her sig before she started walking to the door. Hotch watched her go about five feet and then called after her, "you want to try those eyes out in your next interrogation? It would be an interesting counterbalance to Morgan's Angry Cop."

Emily turned back to shoot him a dirty look before she yanked open the door, stepping into the dimly lit establishment that was already half full at 6:30. It was still early, but it was a Friday night.

Her eyes immediately scanned the crowd seeking out the owner . . . and there he was behind the bar.

Smokey himself.

He walked over to greet her.

Eyes crinkling in amusement, Smokey tipped his head, "agent, haven't you seen you here in awhile." Before she could respond his eyes flicked back to the opening door . . . Hotch coming in behind her.

"Oh . . . and look . . . you brought a friend." He gave her a hard smile, "is this a raid?"

Hotch walked up, brushing his shoulder against hers as he shot Smokey a cold smile of his own, "it can be."

Emily gave him a barely perceptible elbow in the side as she sent him a telepathic, _'that's not being nice Hotch._'

Then she stepped slightly in front of him as she quirked up her lip at Smokey, "no raid, we're just here to play pool Smokey. We'll grab a couple beers from Lucas and go down back."

For a moment Smokey ignored Agent Prentiss. He still hadn't broken his eye contact with her new friend . . . he didn't like him. He knew the type, and he knew that he was dangerous. And if he wasn't carrying a badge, Smokey would have turned him out on his ass.

Though . . . as he eyed the set of the feeb's jaw . . . Smokey had a feeling that would have been a messy undertaking, badge or not. But . . . given that he was here under escort with the lovely Agent Prentiss . . . presumably he wasn't going to cause any trouble for him tonight.

And given the body language between them, Smoke was assuming maybe this was a boyfriend. When she'd stepped in front of him, he'd relaxed his jaw slightly so clearly she had some control over him. And again, Smokey knew his type. And it definitely wasn't the kind that backed down just because some skirt told him to.

But of course Agent Prentiss wasn't just any skirt . . . so if nothing else . . . the guy had good taste.

Point in his favor.

So with a quirk of his eyebrow, Smokey gave the troublemaker a final once over . . . well, at least this one wasn't a pansy ass like the last guy she'd showed up here with.

He'd left crying with a broken nose.

No . . . this one looked more likely to be on the giving, than receiving end in a situation like that. So Smokey decided to let it go.

For now.

He turned to call back over his shoulder.

"Lucas two beers for the feebs."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief . . . that went much better than she'd expected. She knew Hotch was going to hate Smokey on principle and, well, visa versa. But at least no blood had been spilled . . . yet. She'd just keep Hotch down back with her and hopefully it would be okay. Slipping her arm around Hotch's, she tipped her head to Smokey, "thanks. We're gonna head down back now." Smokey just smirked at her as she dragged Hotch over to the bar to get the drinks. There was no way she was leaving the two of them alone together.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he looked down at Prentiss clutching his arm like he was a small child she was afraid of losing in a crowd. He dropped a ten on the counter before grabbing the beers and looking down at her.

"I wasn't going to do anything."

"I knew that you wouldn't," she grabbed his change, throwing two ones back on the counter as she looked back up at him with a sweet smile, "as long as I physically blocked your body with mine."

With a huff, Hotch handed Emily one of the beers before letting her guide him through the crowd down to the back.

It was definitely a dive, high leather count so still a biker bar, but it was a pretty big place and he could see there were a fair number of dress shirts from the after work crowd as well. Mostly younger, probably worked on the Hill and had moved into some of the refurbished apartment buildings. He noticed that Emily got a few looks from some of the more weathered patrons.

One guy in particular . . . who had a greasy ponytail and a jagged scar running from his temple all the way down to his nose . . . winked at her.

Hotch leaned over to whisper in her ear as he asked drily, "ex-boyfriend?"

Emily chuckled as she squeezed his arm, "not for lack of trying. That's Slash. And you can see he got his nickname for obvious reasons." She took a swig of her beer as they settled back against the wall, checking out the room, "he's harmless. And over the last couple years I've taken probably a few hundred bucks from him playing pool so he's a good sport."

Turning to her, Hotch raised his eyebrow in amusement, "has it occurred to you that he's _letting_ you win in an effort to . . . curry favor?"

Hotch figured that 'curry favor' was the most polite way to say, 'get in your pants.'

Emily scowled, "no, I'm good. He doesn't always lose." She quirked her lip up, "he doesn't like you though."

As Hotch glanced back over to 'Slash,' he could see that he was getting the evil eye for having Prentiss wrapped around his arm. Hotch shot him a frigid smile and Slash scowled back at him before returning to his game of pool.

Good.

Hotch was actually amusing himself fucking with these guys. It was a good outlet for his tension. And Prentiss, as he'd found out a few months ago, was a good distraction when he was having a shit day. She didn't ask him questions, or push him to talk about anything. She just quietly supported him, and took every opportunity she could to find new ways to amuse him. He really didn't know anyone else like her. Tipping his head down he looked at her in profile and his face softened . . . yeah, she was one of a kind.

Feeling Hotch's eyes on her, Emily glanced over at him, "what?"

But Hotch just shook his head as he leaned back against the wall, "nothing." Then he took a swig of beer and looked over the room again.

It was getting more crowded and as expected, the noise level was also increasing.

They'd been playing nothing but classic American rock since they'd walked in . . . and given that it was a juke box . . . Hotch figured classic American rock all that was in there.

He doubted that Smokey would pack it with any crap he didn't want to listen to himself. Hotch also knew that a year earlier this place would have been thick with cigarette smoke. But they'd passed the smoking ban about six months ago and apparently word had even reached this part of the world.

Though he figured Smokey . . . Hotch realized the irony then of his nickname . . . probably didn't want to cause any undo attention to his establishment. No reason to bring in the authorities to nose around for some piss ant misdemeanor.

He felt Emily squeeze his arm.

"Hey, there's a table opening up. You want to play?"

Taking another sip of beer he nodded. He hadn't played in years but he'd actually been pretty good in college.

Oh God! That meant he hadn't played regularly in more than _twenty_ years! And he had a feeling Prentiss was a shark. Damn it! She was probably going to kick his ass.

And in front of a room full of bikers. Ergh.

They walked over to the table and Emily began to rack up the balls with an efficiency that was a little frightening so Hotch quirked up his eyebrow, "are you going to at least let me break there Fast Eddie?"

She looked up at him with an amused expression, "I suppose." She stared at him for a second, "you haven't played in awhile, huh?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "not since college," then he put down his beer next to hers and went over to grab two pool cues off the wall. He chalked his up and leaned over, lining up his shot. And to his absolute freaking amazement he actually got two balls in on his break!

He looked up to see Prentiss staring at him in horror.

"Are you HUSTLING me sir!"

Hotch grinned.

"No, Agent Prentiss I am _not_ hustling you. Apparently I remembered a little more than I would have thought after all this time."

He sunk his next ball . . . but then missed his third shot. Which was fortunate, because he was afraid Prentiss was going to break the cue over his head if he cleared the whole table before she even got to play.

So Hotch finished off his beer, as he watched her get in the next three balls.

It wasn't until she came over to grab her own bottle that he realized he'd actually drank hers instead of his.

Crap.

That was a very dirty look she was shooting him. Then she ran her finger around the rim of the bottle before she held up her hand so he could see the smear of red.

"This isn't really a good color lipstick for you _sir_."

Rolling his eyes he pushed his bottle over to her, "just drink this one and I'll get you a new one in a minute." She huffed at him but accepted the beverage. There was much less in the bottle than what she'd left in hers but it was better than nothing.

Hotch . . . knowing he was in trouble for the stolen beer . . . focused his energies and managed to sink his stripes in record time, and then he knocked in the eight. There was little he couldn't do if properly motivated. And he figured it was better to get her a new beer than worry about whether she'd be pissed that he won after he basically said he didn't remember how to play. Though when he glanced up, he saw that Emily's arms were crossed and she was shaking her head.

Apparently it was a tie on which was going to piss her off more.

He shrugged his shoulders, "I thought I should hurry up so I could get you your beer."

She slowly raised her eyebrow, and he knew she was about to say something he didn't want to hear. He quickly jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "I'm going to go to the bar now."

"Yeah you do that sir." Then she let out an annoyed huff as she began to gather the balls together again. It wasn't until he'd walked away that she realized what she'd done.

Let Hotch loose in Smokey's.

OH SHIT!

She quickly scurried through the crowd, noticing that Slash gave her a wide birth and then rolled her eyes as she figured that Hotch had something to do with that. Breaking through a bunch of kids that were clearly Hill interns, she spotted Hotch at the bar eyeing Smokey again.

She slipped up behind him and put her hand on his back.

Hotch had smelled Prentiss' perfume before he turned so he knew who was behind him. He raised his eyebrow, "did you think I couldn't carry two beers back by myself?"

He knew full well that she had just sprinted across the room because he hadn't trusted him not to start something with any of the two dozen guys in the bar that were making his trigger finger twitch. But he was making an effort for her sake. He knew she liked this place and he had no desire to, _intentionally_, cause her any problems.

She fluttered her eyelashes, "just wanted to make sure you didn't need any help. Unlike my half full one you just sucked down, full bottles can be quite heavy you know."

Rolling his eyes at her in ability to even come up with a plausible excuse for her mad dash, Hotch grabbed her hand and dragged her back through the crowd.

Smokey watched them go with a smirk . . . yep, definitely the boyfriend.

As he tugged Emily back through the crowd, Hotch leaned down to ask her a question.

"So what's Smokey's deal? Why's he been on the straight and narrow for so long? If I recall correctly he had a pretty bad rep for awhile running the Outlaws."

Emily didn't want any of the other patrons to hear her answer so she leaned up to whisper in Hotch's ear.

"I looked into him too. I found out he had two sons that died a year apart. In '93, his oldest boy was killed in a shootout with the police during a bank job that went bad. And then the next year his youngest son died of leukemia. He still has a daughter but I guess he just lost the taste for the violence after what had happened with his boys."

Hotch furrowed his brow . . . huh. He wasn't expecting that. He looked back over his shoulder, watching Smokey watch them.

He couldn't imagine the pain if he lost Jack. Let alone if he had to go through the agony of losing two children.

His eyes dropped back down to Emily, "is that why you're friendly with him?"

It wasn't generally in her character to buddy up to known murderers so he figured there had to be a reason in there somewhere.

Her expression softened as she nodded.

"Yeah, I mean I know it doesn't make it right for everything he did in the past. I've read his sheet. I know he was a bad man. But fate definitely called in some karmic chips. Who knows? Maybe he figured he needed to clean up his act before he lost his daughter too."

Hotch murmured, "maybe." He was sorry for Smokey losing his kids, but he'd like to think that there were karmic chips. That maybe everything he sacrificed, destroying his marriage, losing his family, it would all even out in the end because of the murderers and rapists he'd taken off the street. That Jack would stay safe and have a good life because of it.

He liked that idea. He liked it a lot.

When they got back to the pool tables Hotch squeezed Emily's hand and she looked up at him quizzically. He leaned down to whisper.

"I'll try and cut him some slack."

She gave him a little smile as they broke apart.

"Thanks."

/*/*/*/*/*/*

They played a few more games of pool. Unintentionally taking turns winning, and grabbing a new round between each game. She still went up to the bar with Hotch though. She did see that he was noticeably less hostile to Smokey, which to her amusement seemed to surprise Smokey himself. But just because he'd dialed it down with him, didn't mean Hotch wasn't still capable of breaking somebody's head elsewhere in the bar.

There were a few scumbags in there that she'd been eyeing as well. She generally tried to take a live and let live approach in Smokey's but she knew one of these days, her own temper was going to get the best of her.

And as she looked up at the big galoot making his way over to her, she was afraid that tonight might just be that night.

Fortunately Hotch was in the bathroom because things definitely would have been quite ugly if he was here with her now. The guy was over six foot, smarmy, slicked back hair, definitely worked on the Hill, and definitely thought he was hot shit. She hated his type. They thought the world owed them, and they lived for politics. They thought it was a game. She knew from personal experience it was more like a war that had a high body count on all sides.

She took a breath, hoping he'd go away easily.

But unfortunately . . . for him . . . rather than a subdued come on, he walked right up next to her and breathed his hot, stinking alcohol laden breath on her neck as he gave her a "hey baby, need a date."

He didn't lay a hand on her but Emily still recoiled like he'd thrown battery acid on her. She did not like people in her space.

Before he knew what was happening, she'd shoved him against the wall, kneeing him just left of center, and as she pressed the pool cue to press against his adam's apple.

"I'm with someone," she said sweetly.

The guy's eyes were bugging out in fear as he looked down at her. And then they flicked over her shoulder and got so big she thought they were going to pop out.

Hotch was back.

"Is there a problem?" She'd heard that tone before. She liked that tone.

Quirking up her lip coldly, she directed her response to the guy against the wall, "just clarifying my status for this gentleman here."

Emily felt Hotch's hand on her hip as he stepped up behind her, "and does this gentleman now understand that you are not looking for any company?"

She pressed the stick a little harder down and the guy croaked, "uh, yeah. Sorry ma'am," he flicked his eyes over to Hotch, "sir."

Emily pulled the stick back, backing up a step into Hotch who wrapped her arm around her waist. The guy looked down at the movement . . . which was Hotch's intent . . . and he realized they were both wearing side arms. He looked back up, saw the expressions on their faces and took off at a run for the front door.

It was the second time Emily had been out with Hotch and they'd sent someone screaming for the hills. And Morgan thought their boss wasn't a good time. Pfft. What did he know?

She felt Hotch lean down to whisper in her ear, "that was fun. Let's do it again." She giggled as she pushed him away, "maybe later."

Hotch's lips twitched as he looked at her, "Prentiss did you just _giggle_?"

Feeling her face begin to get warm she turned away and started racking up the balls again, "uh, no!"

CRAP! That was so a giggle! She started doing it when she had a couple too many beers. She wasn't drunk, but they did have probably five beers on an empty stomach so she did have a nice little buzz going. So she had two options, either they were going to have to get something to eat AND switch to water on the next round, or else they were going to have to take a cab home later.

She looked behind her to see Hotch's eyes were crinkled as he picked up the cue chalk. Her own crinkled in response. He was having a good time. And she hated to be a downer and cut him off. Because she knew if she stopped drinking he would too.

_Eh. Screw it. They could grab a cab. She'd done it before and Smokey had made sure her car was still there the next day. _

And with that thought, Emily chugged back half of her beer in one gulp. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she saw Hotch looking at her with an amused eyebrow.

"Thirsty?"

She tipped her head, "little bit."

Shaking his head at her, Hotch leaned over to line up his shot. But just as he pulled back . . . Emily stepped up and casually bumped his hip . . . which caused Hotch's hand to slip.

His stick skidded off the side of the ball, rolling it only about two inches. When he looked up at her with a glare, Emily just shrugged innocently, "what? I tripped."

He narrowed his eyebrows further but didn't say anything as he stepped back to let her shoot. She sank the next two balls in a row, but as she lined up for her third, Hotch did the same thing to her that she had done to him. And when she raised her eyebrow at him he shrugged, "what? I tripped."

Her lips twitched, "perhaps we've played enough pool for tonight. If either one of us trip again I have a feeling somebody's going to end up getting whacked with a pool cue."

Hotch's mouth quivered but he didn't respond, he just tossed back his beer and then slammed his empty bottle back down on the corner of the table. The he put his hand out as he said, "come on, another round."

After her little assault on Hill Boy he trusted her alone about as much as she trusted him. And he'd already deduced from the way she chugged her last beer that they were taking a cab. Emily grabbed his hand and they started to head back up to the bar but then she tugged on his hand to get his attention.

He tipped his head back so he could hear her over the din of the crowd.

"I like this song. Can we dance?"

Hotch perked his ears up . . . Journey . . . Open Arms. He actually liked this song too. Not that he'd ever admit that to her. Or anyone really. Journey was not a cool band for a guy to like. He nodded his agreement and led her around the throngs to get to the 10 x 15 patch of floor that was actually waxed down to a reflective sheen. There were about ten couples on the floor and as Hotch tugged Prentiss against his chest he noticed he definitely had the most attractive dance partner.

Most of the others were hard core biker girls. And even the ones he could tell were once pretty, had a bit too hard of an edge on them now to really be attractive anymore.

Though as Hotch looked down at Prentiss, his expression softened slightly as he realized he'd probably have the most attractive dance partner anywhere they went. He noticed he was holding her rather close to his chest, but he knew that they'd definitely entered into one of their little bubble worlds tonight where they were taking a break from their real lives.

For instance, in real life Agent Prentiss did not threaten to bash him over the head with a cue stick either. Dancing was just more of the same.

Emily furrowed her brow . . . it was a little weird dancing with Hotch. Not weird bad, just weird, unusual. She'd danced with Morgan before, and once with Reid when he'd lost a bet and had to stay with her all the way through Barry White's "You're the First, the Last, My Everything."

But Hotch was different.

He kept himself at a distance, literally and figuratively. With the exception of the night that he'd been served his divorce papers . . . and now tonight after he'd signed them . . . Hotch wasn't really much for 'touching.' Well, unless there was an injury of some kind . . . she was picturing Christmas . . . or a general crisis.

Beyond that he pretty much kept his hands to himself.

And she was under no illusions about what would happen tomorrow. That's when they'd go back once again to their usual 'professional' interactions. He had been holding her hand on the trips through the bar, but that was more out of a sense of logistics . . . he didn't want to lose her in the crowd. And then when he'd grabbed her hip earlier he was just making a point for the dickhead.

That was all.

But now, to be so completely into his space with full body contact, it felt kind of . . . naughty. And she felt that way even though she'd once done _way_ naughtier things than this with her boss.

Feeling a blush come up her face, Emily dipped her head down and hid it against Hotch's chest.

Oops.

It really wouldn't do for him to ask why she was blushing and she had to answer, '_just remembering what it felt like to have your erection pressed against me.'_

Yeah, that _really_ wouldn't do.

She'd busted his balls about that night once or twice but, her doing it to him was so not the same as giving him the opportunity to do it to her. Because . . . though most people didn't know it . . . Hotch could give as good as he got and she didn't need to give him any ammunition.

As Emily tucked herself more tightly against his body, Hotch looked down to see that she was blushing. His lips started to twitch. He knew exactly what she was thinking. How could he not?

The last time they were pressed up against each other like this the evening took a _very_ unexpected turn. Leaning down he whispered in her ear, "hey, did you want to go make out in the bathroom?" He could feel the vibration of her laughter into his chest, and then she leaned back and smacked him, "how did you know that's what I was thinking?"

He answered her seriously, "I'm an FBI agent, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit," he tipped his eyebrow up quizzically, "you might have heard of it?" Rolling her eyes Emily put her head back down on his chest. But Hotch . . . remembering the previous two occasions when she had tortured him by bringing up that night at the most inopportune moments . . . wasn't about to let her off the hook quite so quickly.

For a change _she_ was the one that was playing defense.

So he lightly squeezed her body as he continued softly, "so that's a no on the bathroom? Because I was thinking that we might have to go into the ladies room tonight. All the doors were missing from the men's room stalls, and . . ." he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I know that you prefer a door that locks."

Emily banged her head twice against Hotch's chest. Then she leaned back to shoot him a proper . . .Hotch worthy . . . glare.

"Are you done now? Because I think that we're even."

MORE than even! Her face was burning up!

Hotch pursed his lips for for a second.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I think I'm done."

As she huffed and tucked her head back against his shirt . . . to hide the pink he could clearly see on her cheeks . . . he couldn't hide his small chuckle of triumph. Then he patted her back . . . she was right, they were even. And unless her mouth got the better of her . . . unlikely given that he had just embarrassed the remnants of the proper Catholic buried in there . . . he was pretty sure that she was done busting his balls over what had happened that night.

And as the tension started to leave her body, and she settled back against him again, he realized that they'd actually been having a really good time together tonight. And he couldn't remember the last time that he'd really had a good time doing anything.

Well . . . he thought back . . . the New Year's kiss, that was fun. And then Christmas Eve at Dave's.

That had been fun too.

And both activities . . . the kiss exclusively . . . had been ones involving the woman currently tucked against his chest.

Interesting.

Not that he'd considered those earlier situations when he'd accepted her offer to go out for the evening.

He'd simply gone with her because it was something to do besides stare at his wedding band.

But he realized that since they'd arrived, he actually hadn't thought once about Haley, or the divorce, or anything else that was depressing.

And . . . he started feeling a pit forming in his stomach . . . it was really unfortunate _that_ revelation had just come to him. Because then that's all he could think about.

_'You couldn't leave well enough alone you freaking moron.'_

So with a weary sigh at his own idiocy, Hotch leaned down to brush his lips next to Emily's ear.

"I need a drink."

Having felt Hotch's body tense up a moment before, Emily wasn't surprised by that announcement. She'd thought things had been going far too well. She nodded against his chest, "'kay."

She stepped back, took his hand and started back to the bar where Hotch ordered two beers and a shot of whiskey.

As he paid Lucas, Emily turned away to take a sip of her beer and realized Smokey had walked up behind her. He snapped his eyes over to the drinks still on the bar, before he said drily.

"Somebody having a bad day?"

Her eyes hardened as she licked her lips, "trust me when I say that you want to back off right now Smokey."

Smokey put up his palms in a conciliatory gesture, "no disrespect intended Agent. Just an observation."

She narrowed her eyes, "yeah, well you can keep your observations to yourself." She looked down for a second and when she looked up she gave him a hard look, "I'm leaving my car here. I trust it will still be here when I come pick it up tomorrow night."

He nodded, "of course."

Her expression softened slightly as she tipped her head in thanks, and then she turned back to the boyfriend, putting one arm around him, grabbing her beer off the counter with the other and then they headed back into the crowd.

Smokey could see that he seemed upset about something, and he was curious . . . in an abstract way . . . what the problem was. Smokey himself would have been happy enough simply to be going home with Agent Prentiss. She was a classy broad with a great body who could take care of herself in a bar.

She reminded him of his first ex.

Of course she'd only married him to piss off her father, but he'd loved her and she'd given him three good kids. Then she'd left him after Sean was killed. She blamed him for introducing him to that lifestyle.

A year later she wouldn't even speak to him at Tommy's funeral.

He'd gone through two more ex Mrs. Smokey Tom's in the past decade, but he was still looking for another one like the first. Though he knew he never had a shot with the Agent he did enjoy having her around the couple times a month she came in to play pool. Usually by herself, occasionally with a couple girlfriends. Tonight was the first time in a year that she'd brought a guy with her.

Well, since that first night she'd turned up with the pantywaist. But that seemed to be a first date because she didn't leave with him. And he'd heard what these two had done to that little schmuck who'd run out of here like his pants were on fire. So it looked like this one was at least into the same hobbies she was.

It wasn't the first time she'd sent a guy limping to the door. And the regulars knew to leave her alone, it was always the snots from the Hill that didn't know enough to walk away.

She clearly didn't like to be touched. Well, present company notwithstanding apparently.

And she was always very polite with her brush-offs. That was, unless they didn't walk away after the first one. Then all bets were off. The one who'd scrambled out the door must have done something to rub her the wrong way because the word was she already had him pinned to the wall before the boyfriend even showed up. What had she called him?

Hotch.

Odd name. Though he was called Smokey so who the hell was he to point fingers.

When Smokey craned his neck he saw that they'd settled into a booth down back. On the same side. They didn't seem the type for lovey dovey public displays so he figured that something else was going on there. He motioned Lucas over and told him to send over a bottle of Jack to the feebs. On the house.

Clearly she was pissed at him over his 'observations,' so he figured a little apology gift was in order. After all she was the one and only FBI agent he'd ever met that he hadn't wanted to put a bullet into. And he was pretty sure that if he said another word about her friend 'Hotch' that she wouldn't be darkening his doorstep again.

Smokey stepped back behind the bar shaking his head.

Couldn't have that.

/*/*/*/*/

Emily huffed as she picked up the bottle of Jack that Smokey sent over.

Trying to get back in her good graces no doubt. Well, as long as he kept his comments about Hotch to himself then they could be friends.

But she was pretty sure that she'd made her point there.

And she had a feeling that Hotch was going to need the bottle. She'd slid in beside him for moral support. She remembered the last time when he hit rock bottom that he was pretty 'demonstratively affectionate' even though he wasn't by nature cuddly really. So she deduced he was only like that when he was emotional.

Which was basically just when his life fell to pieces.

Though that did lead her to presume . . . that on the flipside . . . he was probably very affectionate with his family. Which was, she knew, a short list that had just gotten a little shorter.

And that made her feel so sad for him. Because it probably meant that with the exception of his son, nobody hugged Hotch anymore. Granted,Emily might react badly to strangers and acquaintances in her space . . . she had some issues . . . but she hugged her friends all the time.

And Hotch wasn't exactly a regular friend, but she loved him just as much as she did JJ and Pen, and the boys.

So she preempted his protests of 'I'm fine Prentiss' and just scooted up beside him. Then she wrapped her arm around his torso and placed her head on his chest.

He didn't say a word.

Instead she just heard a soft sigh before his arm slipped around her shoulders.

Then he started drinking his shots of Jack . . . one after another.

Emily cut him off at seven . . . she didn't want him getting alcohol poisoning . . . so she just patted his stomach as a distraction while she slid the bottle under the table and out of his reach.

Of course that was after she'd taken three hits herself.

She didn't want to leave him to go get another beer, and she'd finished hers off about twenty minutes earlier.

After that they just sat and watched the bar. Hotch had her clutched to his chest like a teddy bear. The little circles he was rubbing on her back, were actually putting her to sleep.

The announcement of last call made her jump. And her eyes popped open again before she blinked sleepily up at him.

"Hi."

Hotch's lip quirked up as he looked down at Emily slumped against his chest.

"Hi yourself."

With a yawn, Emily dropped her head back to his chest, patting his stomach. She was definitely a bit drunk. Hotch knew he was drunk drunk but he didn't really feel completely out of it. Fortunately Emily had slipped the bottle away before he'd gotten 'slide under the table' drunk. He just felt nicely wasted. And he didn't really feel like leaving. He didn't have a home to go to.

He had a hotel room.

This weekend he was going to have to find an apartment. At least a temporary one. Maybe a month to month until he figured out where he wanted to settle. Then he was going to have to buy dishes and furniture and . . . his head hurt just thinking about it. He was going to have to start a whole new life. And he realized he still needed to go over to the house and get his stuff, but that shouldn't take long. There wasn't that much that was just his. Twenty years and he'd barely made an impression on his own home.

That said something.

It said that was another warning sign he'd missed. He could probably pack up all of his personal possessions in four or five boxes. And furniture wise he'd prefer to leave all that stuff there. Haley was getting the house because of Jack and he wanted him to have some stability. It was bad enough that his father was going to be gone, Hotch didn't want there to be any more upheaval in his life than there had to be.

Oh Jack . . . he felt an ache in his chest . . . he missed him so much.

Hotch sighed as he wrapped his arm tighter around Emily . . . he needed to go see his son. Try and make his boy understand that his daddy still loved him even though he wasn't going to be there anymore. He wasn't sure if the nuances of that conversation were too much for somebody who was barely three. But he wanted to at least try.

He wasn't going to lose his son the way he lost his wife.

The last six months Jack just thought they were on an adventure at Auntie's. Fortunately he was only two and a half when Haley had moved out so he hadn't been old enough to really understand. But he'd turned three in November, and the older he got, it became clear he was starting to understand that something wasn't quite right. But he'd do what he could and hopefully he could salvage a good relationship with his son. He realized now he was probably the only child he would ever have. Once upon a time he and Haley had discussed having another one.

Maybe it was for the best that they hadn't.

Feeling Emily again stirring at his side, Hotch looked over to see her pushing herself up. Then her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I think we have to go home now."

He smiled at her clear befuddlement . . . apparently she was a little drunker than he'd realized.

"Yep," he responded with a nod and a stretch, "we do."

She looked down at the table for a second and then back up at him.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

His eyes crinkled, "okay." But then she didn't get up. She just shook her head and stared at him.

Okay, apparently she was drunker than he was. How was that possible? Oh right . . . he rolled his eyes . . . she was at least fifty pounds lighter than he was and took three shots of 80 proof whiskey just before she'd dozed on his chest.

And that wasn't even counting all the beer.

So Hotch blinked a few times trying to sober up enough to be the responsible one. And then he started pushing her out of the booth.

"Come on, let's go to the bathroom."

She was very unsteady on her feet, and he realized as he stood up . . . and then sat back down again . . . so was he.

Great.

This will be fun. Hotch pulled her against his side, fighting off the blurriness and then started heading down back.

They were halfway across the bar when Emily patted his stomach. When he looked down at her she said again, "I have to go to the bathroom."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head, "I know Prentiss. We're going right now."

She nodded, "oh, good."

Fortunately they reached the ladies room just then, but, there was a line. And he would have taken her to the men's room but . . . no doors on the stalls.

Damn it.

His addled brain wasn't presently capable of complex problem solving. And at the moment, finding Emily a place to pee seemed like a freaking SAT question!

"She can go in the back."

Slightly startled at the voice behind him, Hotch unsteadily whipped them around to see Smokey. He was a few feet away.

The other man put his hand out.

"Give her to me and I'll bring her in the back."

Hotch shot Smokey a nasty glare as he tightened his hold on Emily. He might have been drunk, but there wasn't enough alcohol on the planet that was going to make him think that it was a good idea to send his intoxicated female agent off into the back room of a bar with any other man but him. Well, okay the guys on his team, but that was it.

_Nobody_ else was touching her.

Smokey could see that papa bear wasn't about to let go of his cub, so he tipped his head.

"Fine, you bring her."

That had actually been a test. Smokey was curious what the reaction would be if he asked him to hand her over. Of course Smokey would never lay a hand on Agent Prentiss . . . he might have some moral grey areas, but raping women wasn't one of them. And beyond that, no man worth his salt handed his woman over to ANYONE when she was in the condition she was in. Smokey was pleased to see that . . . even though this guy had drank a half a bottle of Jack . . . he'd still known that.

He was all right.

So Smokey turned to lead them down back. Ordinarily it was not an area he'd want them anywhere near, but they were clearly both too fucked up to notice the illegal betting slips that were littering the floors.

Once they'd turned down the last hallway, he brought them into his personal office. Then he gestured towards the bathroom on the side and stepped back out in the hall.

Hotch nodded his thanks to Smokey . . . right before he shut the door in his face. They were going to have to take turns in the bathroom, and he didn't want to leave her alone with the other man.

Not even for a minute.

So after he was sure that the door was locked, he half dragged, half carried Emily across the room and into the small bathroom. There he held her up with one hand on her waist, and the other on her chin.

He was trying to get her to focus on him.

"Prentiss," his words were slightly slurred, "you have to do this part yourself. I'll be right outside, okay?"

After he'd gotten a bleary nod and mumbled, "kay," in return, Hotch stepped back into Smokey's office. Then he leaned against the bathroom door, hoping not to hear a thud as Emily hit the ground.

His eyes automatically started to shift around the room but then Hotch just rolled his eyes . . . he was too drunk to care about snooping. Otherwise he definitely would have poked his head around a little bit.

Though enough of his brain was functioning to know that if Smokey thought he was sober enough to snoop he wouldn't have left them alone. Someone like Smokey doesn't bring two FBI agents into his personal office and leave them there unless he's quite sure they're in no condition to be nosy.

They were in no condition to be walking upright, so Smokey definitely had the right idea.

Hotch heard the toilet flush and the water running a second later, and he moved away from the door as it opened. He plunked her down in Smokey's chair and told her not to go anywhere, he'd be right back. Then he hurried into the bathroom and took care of his own business as quickly as possible. He came back out to find her sliding off the seat, catching her just before she hit the ground. As he picked her back up, he mumbled to himself, "Emily what am I going to do with you?"

Her eyes focused in on his for a second and she smiled, "you called me Em . . . Em . . . Emily." It was a bit of a drunken slur but she did eventually get her own name out and he laughed as he hugged her to his chest, "yes, I did call you Em, Em, Emily. That is your name. But usually we just say it once."

Her eyes crinkled as she leaned back, "yeah but you never call me by name. You call everybody else by their first name." She shook her head slowly, "not me though." She smirked, "nope, not Em, Em, Emily."

Dimples flashing at her effort to carry on an actual conversation in her/their current state, he turned her around, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She barely weighed anything and she didn't fight him, she just started giggling. Apparently that's what she did when she was drunk, he tried to make a mental note to give her crap about it later. When he pulled open the office door, Hotch found Smokey on the other side looking at him with amusement.

"Need any help?"

Hotch narrowed his eyebrows, "you know I'm not letting you put a . . . a finger on her so why do you keep asking?"

Apparently he wasn't immune to the stammering either.

Smokey smirked, "just wanted to see what you'd say," he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "got you guys a cab."

"Uh, thanks." Hotch said hesitantly.

He hated to be indebted to this guy, but Hotch noticed that he did seem to genuinely look after Emily so maybe he wasn't all bad. He followed him out to the street where Lucas was holding the door open. Hotch had a feeling the cabby was there under duress because this wasn't generally an easy neighborhood to grab a cab.

Emily was still giggling like a fiend and Hotch was actually finding it hard not to laugh. She just sounded ridiculous. He slid her back over his shoulder and put her on the ground. Looking up at him for a second she gave him a beatific grin, and he couldn't help himself, he gave her both dimples in response.

Her hands came up to his face before her fingers traced over his dimples. Feeling her hands on his face, Hotch started to laugh.

"All right Prentiss, I'm not a Braille book, get in the cab."

Emily smirked, and with Hotch's help somehow managed to get into the backseat without cracking her skull on the roof.

Smokey Tom had been watching the two of them interact, and God knows he'd never say it out loud but given they were both such hardasses he was surprised to see that they were actually very sweet together. And as her friend Hotch turned back to him he gave a nod of respect.

"You're welcome here any time."

Hotch huffed as he turned back to the cab, calling over his shoulder, "thanks." He got into the backseat next to Emily and Lucas slammed the door shut.

For a second Hotch couldn't for the life of him remember Emily's address. So he looked over at her . . . saw that she was playing with a thread on her shirt . . . and realized that she wasn't going to be any help at all.

Crap.

Then suddenly it came to him like a flash, and he told the cab driver where to go before he lost it again.

Then he settled back against the seat and Emily tucked her arm through his as she slumped against his shoulder.

"I'm tired," she mumbled.

Apparently her little burst of energy was over now. He huffed to himself . . . probably all the giggling wore her out.

He nodded, "I know you are. We're going to your house," he tipped his head down to hers, "can I sleep on your couch?"

She gave him a sleepy nod as she mumbled back, "yep, yep, yep."

His eyes crinkled as he reached over to squeeze her fingers, "thanks Emily."

Her eyes fell shut as she murmured, "welcome Aaron."

As Emily said his given name, Hotch's eyes began to burn. He thought back to Haley's question that morning. Yesterday morning really, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was that she was wrong.

He hadn't ceased to exist. He _was_ still Aaron. Some part of him was the man that he used to be . . . and Emily Prentiss was able to find that part of him.

Granted, they both had to drink a hell of a lot of alcohol to get there . . . but it happened. And maybe someday . . . once he got his shit together . . . he could find that man again. Find him without the aid of a half a bottle of Jack Daniels. And then maybe he could be happy with someone else.

Someone else who would know him . . . and love him . . . as Aaron, and not just as Hotch.

As he felt Emily's gentle respirations on his shoulder, Hotch's own eyes began to close as well. The last thing he murmured was "someday" before tipped his head down to hers.

Then he passed out.

* * *

_A/N 2: That was actually a little taste of the AU for you. Beyond the obvious foreshadowing at the end, eventually, how they now only interact when they've been drinking will be their regular relationship. Sweet, affectionate and joking around all the time. Couple more months! But in reality that's only like five or six more chapters until it starts. And I know I had Hotch laughing and smiling a little bit more here than usual, but two reasons, he was drinking, that tends to loosen people up. But also, even canon Hotch in the little montages they've shown does laugh openly when he's just relaxed out with the team. So I figure you combine those two things and Hotch is almost as emotionally expressive at this point as my basically happy and in love Hotch from The Hours and beyond :)_

_And I'm NOT going to have Emily and Hotch beat the crap out of somebody every time they go out together :) They have not done that ever in the AU and they have gone to bars there as well. The earlier chapter, as I said it was necessary for the Hotch rage thing, this time, it was just an accident. Hotch was having such a good time screwing with people I wanted to give him one good opportunity to really scare the crap out of someone, but just for fun. So, rather than him going nuts, I had Emily completely overreact to some loser in a bar who really just said hello to her. But Emily also has some anger issues, and that's why they make such a good couple :) But as they start getting closer together, their 'issues' start to get addressed, and they're less likely to go ballistic than they are now when they're both pretty messed up separately. I'm not making them psychotic; they've just been through some bad stuff._

_Not sure if I'll be able to post tomorrow, kind of a busy day and I still have about half that chapter to write. I'll try. Even if I don't get it up until Wednesday though, we'll definitely be 'in New York' by the weekend._

_Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter :) Please keep 'em coming! They make me happy, that makes the muse happy, and if the muse is happy all the writing comes faster. We got almost 10,000 words out of her today :)_

_Next: __**"Letting Go"**_


	39. Letting Go

**Author's Note:** Sorry, I've been a little under the weather and it was sapping all of my free time energy to write. And even though I'm a day late, I am not a dollar short. I come bearing a nice big chapter for you.

Because we're moving into the next phase of their relationship I wanted to pull on some of those loose threads from the past to revisit some of those prior trust and bonding issues and see how far they've come. Therefore we'll be hitting on events covered in some early chapters.

Also, starting here, I'll begin adding the month to all the headers. Even though we're still in canon, I'll be spreading out the remaining episodes in season three and four so they'll kind of be used as markers with other events in their relationship.

FYI: They are back at the same bar they were in the night of the bathroom escapades. O'Leary's. This is their regular after work bar. They'll be going there again.

**Allusions**: Chp. 14 "The War at Home" & Chp. 15 "Once More Unto the Breach"

* * *

_Episode – __Elephant's Memory_

_Mid April _

**Letting Go**

As he tapped his fingers on the table, Hotch looked over to the bar where Prentiss was waiting for their drinks.

It had been such a hellish case that when they'd landed and Morgan suggested they go out for a beer, it was the first time that Hotch could remember not having to be asked twice. He'd seen too many dead kids that week. But he had been very pleased though when Reid had begged off so he could go finish his 'movie.'

It was clear that he was still struggling and Hotch hoped he'd be able to find the support he needed. Not having any personal experience with addiction, there was only so much that Hotch could do for him.

And he could also only go so far to cover him.

If he pulled another stunt like he did earlier that day, Hotch wouldn't hesitate to cut him from the team. It would hurt him terribly to do it, but it was either that or watch Reid get himself killed.

Reassignment definitely was the more palatable of the two options.

So now, it was just after 9:30 and they were back at O'Leary's. It was the first time that Hotch had been there since the night he got served his divorce papers.

Almost four months ago.

At present Garcia was off dancing with Kevin, and JJ had once again paired off with Morgan - though Hotch had his suspicions that there was someone else she wished was there.

But this time though . . . when they'd all left the table . . . Hotch actually was going to ask Prentiss to dance. He really was! But she took off for the bar before he could even open his mouth.

Apparently she wasn't looking for a repeat of the last awkward pause. But she really should have known better than that though. They'd had some major bonding experiences since that little incident, and he had no intention of leaving her hanging like that again.

"You should ask her to dance."

Sometimes Hotch would swear on a bible that Rossi and Prentiss took turns reading his thoughts. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Hotch turned to look at Dave, "I feel like we've had this conversation before."

Dave rolled as he shook his ice around in his glass.

"Yeah, well you didn't do it last time and here we are again with her the only one left at the table." Rossi shook his head at him in exasperation. "she's gonna get a complex Hotch."

Feeling his own burst of exasperation, Hotch huffed back at him, "I was _going_ to ask her this time but she ran off! What? Was I supposed to chase her?"

Dave nodded slowly, "yes, yes you were."

For a second Hotch just stared at Dave, then he huffed out an annoyed breath, "fine," he pushed his chair back, "but if I go get her that means that you have to get the drinks."

With a big grin, Dave tossed back the rest of his scotch before he slammed his empty glass down on the table.

"Not a problem my friend."

Hotch's lips twitched as he got up and started cutting through the crowd to get to the bar. Dave watched him go with a look of amusement . . . he'd noticed over the past couple months that Emily had a certain way of loosening Hotch up. And since he'd made that observation, Dave had been subtly pushing Hotch to spend a little more time with her.

Because if there was anyone on the _planet_ that needed to loosen up, it was Aaron Hotchner.

Since the divorce he'd been working more and more, to the point that now he was practically living at the office. So if Emily could occasionally get him to crack a smile, then Dave was going to do everything he could to encourage their burgeoning friendship. He'd seen good men lose themselves to this job in the past. And he was really afraid that Hotch was going to work himself to death if he stayed on this path.

/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch popped out at the corner of the bar where Emily was still waiting to get the bartender's attention. As she was turned away from him, Hotch tapped her on the back and then quickly had to work defensive maneuver number three before he caught an elbow to the gut.

Emily spun around to see her boss was giving her a very nasty look.

Oops.

She gave him a sheepish grin, "sorry sir. There was a girl that kept trying to cut in front of me. I thought you were her."

Of course in response to her explanation, Hotch just shook his head at her in exasperation. Emily had noticed that was pretty much his default look for her. And she assumed that he was only there now to help her with the drinks.

That is . . . she scowled as she turned back to the bar . . . if she ever got the stupid bartender's attention.

All the little college girls with their boobs popping out had been served but he kept ignoring her. She was getting seriously annoyed. Yes, she knew that she wasn't twenty-two anymore, but God, she couldn't get this _one_ guy to give her the time of day! Jesus . . . she felt a wave of disgust . . . she must be getting old.

Realizing that Emily didn't have a clue as to why he was standing there, Hotch cleared his throat so she'd turn around again.

"Prentiss, did you want to dance?"

With a raised eyebrow, Emily turned back and asked suspiciously, "did dad tell you to ask me?"

That was the problem with leaving the table, there was a possibility that you were a topic of conversation once you were gone.

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly . . . he knew full well that if he lied in his answer that she'd know immediately.

"He may have," he allowed, "_but_," he tipped his head towards the dance floor, "the offer is genuine."

Emily scrunched her brow as she debated internally for a minute . . . she did want to dance, but she _didn't _want him asking just because Rossi told him to ask her. She wasn't a damn charity case. She could still get a guy to ask her to dance.

Though . . . looking around the bar . . . tonight it seemed to be all evidence to the contrary. She couldn't see even one guy that looked like he was the slightest bit interested in her. Not that she wanted to get pawed but, come on! Not one guy here found her attractive? First, Hotch leaves her sitting at the table AGAIN after the others all went off to the dance floor! And now, when he does show up to ask her, she couldn't even point out one stupid guy that might have been interested in her even if he wasn't.

Well, not that she thought Hotch was interested in her but . . . damn it, what was the point? She scowled . . . oh yeah. The point was, she was getting old and men didn't find her attractive anymore.

Hotch watched Emily checking out the room for almost thirty seconds before his mouth quirked up and he gestured over his shoulder.

"Would you like for me to go back to the table until you decide if any of the other men in the bar are clamoring to punch your dance card?"

Emily turned to shoot him another glare, "hey, men still find me attractive."

'_Though none of those men appear to be in this bar,_' was the part she added bitterly to herself.

Hotch's mouth started to twitch, "I'm sure that they do. Now would you like to wait for one of these other men to ask you to dance, or would you like to accept my offer?"

As she grunted in irritation Hotch had to drop his head to his chest to hide his smile . . . God she was hilarious.

Finally he heard her sigh dramatically, and when he looked up again, she grabbed his hand.

"I suppose you'll do," she muttered.

Hotch had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

She started leading him back through the crowd hanging around the bar, bypassing their table where everyone else had returned for the food that had arrived. Rossi gave Hotch a subtle nod as they went passed and Hotch rolled his eyes at him in response.

Once they got down to the dance floor Emily cut through to the far corner near the wall, staking out a three foot square of space. When she turned to look back at Hotch, for a moment she wondered who was supposed to do what here.

After all, she'd been the one dragging him along.

But then Hotch's natural alpha tendencies reasserted themselves as he gently tugged her towards him. He put his other hand on her back and Emily put hers on his shoulder as they started to move to the sounds of The Cranberries.

After a couple minutes Hotch . . . seeing that she was still sulking . . . raised a curious eyebrow. "Is there something wrong Prentiss?"

Emily dropped her head to her chest with a pout, "I'm old."

His eyes crinkled at the pout as he asked with genuine interest, "really? And why do you think that?"

Her head snapped back up as she burst out, "I couldn't even get a DRINK at the bar! And nobody wanted to dance with me because apparently I'm getting all wrinkled and disgusting! I mean God Hotch," she said bitterly, "Rossi had to MAKE you ask me!"

Okay, she perhaps hadn't intended to spew that much at him. But he'd asked.

Hotch stopped dancing at he looked down at her in astonishment, "Prentiss, do you _actually_ think that I didn't ask you to dance because I thought that you were too UGLY!"

Scrunching her eyebrow in confusion, Emily looked down at the floor, "well when you say it like that . . ."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Hotch pulled her back against his chest.

"When I say it like that it sounds absolutely moronic. Yes, yes, it does." He looked down at her in amazement, "God Prentiss, you didn't _honestly_ think that did you?"

Still sulking, Emily turned her head away, "no, I guess not. I was just annoyed that all the little twenty-two year old airheads were getting served ahead of me."

Then she started ranting in disgust, "stupid girls with their stupid perfect bodies and not one line on their faces and not one grey hair on their heads. And then I noticed not one guy was even looking in my direction." She sighed, "not that I want guys looking at me, then I just have to ask them to go away but still," she huffed "there was a time when I could always get a free drink, and now, God the bartender wouldn't even let me PAY for one!"

Hotch's expression softened as he looked down at her . . . this was _really_ bothering her. She honestly thought that she was so old that men were starting to think she wasn't attractive anymore. A supposition that was beyond ridiculous.

She was beautiful.

In fact, she was one of the few attractive women in the place. Everywhere he looked he just saw very, young, girls. Girls that were young enough to be his daughter. And he most definitely did not find that attractive at all. And now he did feel like a complete asshole for not asking her to dance earlier.

Rossi was right, she was getting a complex.

And Hotch didn't think reminding her of the two scumbags she'd assaulted for hitting on her was really going to make this any better. But he did think of one thing that might. So he rubbed his hand down her back.

"Prentiss," he said softly, "I'm going to tell you something but then you have to pretend like I didn't say it okay."

Still pouting, Emily raised her head, "what?"

For a moment he didn't say anything, he just walked her over to the wall. Then he looked down at her for another second, not quite believing he was about to say this out loud.

He took a breath and just blurted it out, "I think you're very pretty."

Emily looked up at Hotch in surprise before she felt a blush start to spread, "really," she tipped her head warily, "you're not just saying that because you feel sorry for me?"

Hotch rolled his eyes . . . for Christ's sake.

"_No_ Prentiss, I'm not just saying that because I feel sorry for you. I think you just had a very bad day and the jackass bartender ignoring you didn't make things any better." He tipped his head as his tone softened, "and I suppose I didn't either. I know that's the second time I left you hanging like that and I'm sorry. Though in my defense, this time I was planning on asking you but you ran off too fast."

She bit her lip, "you were going to ask me?"

"God Prentiss," he looked down at her in astonishment, "after everything that you did to help me with my divorce, did you really think I was going to let you sit there like a wallflower?"

As intelligent and attractive as she was, Hotch sometimes genuinely worried about her self esteem.

Emily's gaze dropped back down to the hardwood floor, "well," she said softly, "when you say it like that . . ."

God, she really felt kind of stupid right now.

Hotch sighed, "exactly."

As her head came back up, Emily gave Hotch a little smile, "thanks."

He was being really sweet tonight. And she saw a faint bit of amusement touch his eyes as he stared at her for a second. Then he took her hand once more and led her back out to the dance floor.

Just before he pulled her to his chest again, Hotch shot Emily a glare, "but don't ever tell anyone I said that or I'll have to go to sexual harassment training."

Emily smirked, "got it sir."

And that's what he always did when he got caught being sweet. He added a little bit of cranky to the mix so nobody would think he was getting soft. Emily thought it was amusing. Though she supposed, outside of her . . . and perhaps JJ and his ex-wife . . . there probably weren't too many people that ever actually _witnessed_ the sweet.

Hmm.

As they started to dance again, Hotch looked over Emily's head to the bar, "Prentiss did you happen to notice the bartender is like twenty-two years old himself? That's probably why he's only interested in those college girls." Hotch's lips twitched as he looked back down at her, "he knows that you're out of his league."

Emily grinned at him, "you're so full of shit, sir."

Hotch chuckled and then he impulsively spun her around, pulling her back against his body again as she began to laugh.

"Wow!" She grinned at him, "SO not expecting that!"

Hotch didn't answer, he just flashed her a dimple. For the first time realizing that Emily Prentiss tended to make him do things that he didn't ordinarily do.

Still smiling, Emily slid her hand up to his shoulder, "you know I'm glad you came out tonight Hotch. I think with the exception of the recent, uh . . . 'milestone' events, this is one of the few times I can recall you coming out and relaxing."

Feeling an unexpected wave of indignation, Hotch scowled at her, "I've been out before! A couple times last fall, and then at the super . . ."

He stopped and Emily felt him tense up . . . crap! Deflect! Deflect!

She lightly rubbed his shoulder, hoping to sooth some of the tension out of the muscles as she said softly, "you're absolutely right. You have been out before. My mistake."

Figuring that Hotch wouldn't want the sympathy, Emily just plowed right over the fumble like it hadn't happened. That seemed to have been the right way to go because his muscles finally relaxed and he slowly let out his breath before nodding, "exactly."

Then he berated himself . . . moron. You can't even make reference to a national holiday where your wife . . . correction . . . _ex_-wife was present without freezing up like a statue.

Rolling his eyes at his own idiocy, Hotch then realized since his little spastic attack, he was now holding Prentiss like they were at a junior high dance. Shifting his grip slightly, he pulled her in a little closer as the song changed again.

Not surprisingly he didn't know the name of it. He was terrible on stuff like that. So he leaned down to ask his dance partner, who was becoming his resident expert on popular music.

"Do you know this song?"

Leaning back slightly to listen, Emily wrinkled her nose, "um, the band is Staind, but . . ."

Her eyes fell shut as she pursed her lips and tried to think. Then the chorus came on and she had it.

Her eyes popped open again, "oh yeah, that's right, _So Far Away_. I like this song."

He murmured a "hmm" as he began unconsciously tapping his fingers on her back. Emily found the rhythm soothing and her mind began to wander. Then she leaned back a moment later.

"Reid seemed better when we landed."

"Yeah," Hotch nodded slowly, "yeah I think he'll be okay."

Emily starting chewing on her lip before she looked up at him again.

"You know," she said apologetically, "I'm really sorry I didn't say anything to you before about his behavior."

Surprised at her statement, Hotch furrowed his brow as he looked down in confusion, "I don't understand."

Emily sighed as she looked down again, "last year I knew he was having a real problem and I was going to say something to you but, the one time I thought about saying something Gideon sort of . . ." she paused, trying to think of a diplomatic term, "didn't react well." She looked back up at him, "so I didn't say anything to you because I wasn't sure if you would have wanted to hear it either. But maybe if I had gone to you then he wouldn't still be struggling now."

For a moment Hotch just stared at her, feeling a shot of rage shoot through his body. And then Emily suddenly winced in his arms.

"Ow," she bit her lip, "Hotch little tight on the fingers."

Horrified that he'd hurt her, Hotch immediately loosened his grip. Then he moved his hand down as he rubbed her back soothingly, "God, I'm sorry . . . I'm really sorry."

Emily looked up at him in confusion, "it's all right, but now would you like to tell me what caused that sudden burst of anger?"

Hotch looked down at her nervously, "how did you know?"

She gave him a sad smile, "because you don't usually dig your fingernails into me like I'm a pin cushion."

As he looked down at her, Hotch had no idea what to say. So he just tucked her head back under his chin as he continued rubbing her back, trying to undo what he had done. He couldn't believe he'd hurt her!

He'd gotten angry and he'd hurt her. That was so far from okay he didn't even know what to do with himself.

But for just a second he'd gotten so fucking angry at Gideon. Hotch remembered specifically keeping Prentiss partnered up with Reid because he knew that she would come to him, _or_ GIDEON(!), if she thought Reid was reaching the tipping point. Well apparently she had, and Gideon had blown her off.

Fucking great Jason! Just fucking great!

And she was absolutely right, if he had known back then that it had reached that point, Hotch would have made sure that Reid had gotten professional help. If that had happened, mostly likely he would be much further along in his recovery by now. And maybe then he wouldn't have almost gotten his brains blown out today!

Hotch's muscles were so tense Emily could have sworn he was in rigor. She really wished she knew exactly what it was she'd said that had gotten him so mad. The anger clearly wasn't directed at her though. If it was he wouldn't be rubbing her back like she was a newborn baby he was trying to put to sleep.

Trying again to reach him, Emily patted his back, "Hotch," she whispered against his chest, "please tell me what's wrong."

Hotch just shook his head . . . as furious as he was at Jason, he didn't want to badmouth Gideon to her. And besides, it wouldn't change any of it now anyway. But after hearing about yet _another_ run in she had with Gideon, it did remind Hotch of something that he should have done a long time ago.

His hand stilled on her back as he cleared his throat, "Prentiss, I really want to apologize to you for all the trouble you had when you first started."

Emily leaned back, blinking at him in surprise . . . that was absolutely the last thing she'd expected him to say. She scrunched up her face in confusion.

"What?"

Hotch worked his jaw, "I realize looking back that you took a lot of grief from everyone," he looked down at her sadly, "myself included, and I'm sorry for that."

Emily dropped her eyes to the floor, and when she looked up she gave him a gentle smile, "it's okay."

Hotch tipped his head in surprise, "it's okay?"

Nodding she patted his back again, "yeah, it's okay. I mean I'm not going to say it didn't suck sometimes because, well, it did, but we got through it." Sighing she put her cheek on his shirt, "it's okay."

Hotch looked down at her in astonishment . . . she got treated like crap for months. Him . . . Gideon . . . Reid. They basically took turns kicking her around, and now he _finally_ . . . much too late . .. acknowledges that what had happened was wrong. And she doesn't want to vent, or say '_it's about time,' _she just says, '_it's okay'_ . . .

Even though it really wasn't.

He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a quick hug before loosening his grip again. He hadn't hugged her, or really touched her at all, since that night he'd signed his divorce papers and woken up the next morning on her living room floor. Emily was sprawled out on the couch, still dead to the world. He'd had no memory of the cab ride back to her condo. After he got the bottle of whiskey Hotch only remembered that night in flashes, but from what he did remember he knew that it would probably be for the best if he kept his hands to himself for a little while.

That was barely a month ago. But sometimes she really was quite remarkable, and he couldn't let that go without acknowledgement. His fingers brushed over that spot on her arm again, the one he'd dug his fingers into, and he could feel her tense up for a moment before she relaxed.

God . . . he winced . . . that meant that he'd left a bruise. Just like that asshole that had grabbed her the last time they were here. And now he felt even worse. He'd broken that guy's wrist for leaving a mark on her, and he'd just done the same thing. He bit his lip, desperately wanting to say he was sorry again, to think of something to do to make it up to her.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she felt Hotch squeeze her for just a second . . . that was the first time he'd ever hugged her when he wasn't in the midst of a personal crisis. It was sweet. Even if she wasn't quite sure what it was for. He'd already apologized for things that had happened in the past that he mostly didn't have any control over anyway.

Really, it wasn't his fault that Reid had a drug problem, or that Gideon could be kind of a jerk sometimes. The few times Gideon had ever apologized for his outbursts Emily had been pretty sure that was Hotch's doing anyway. And as far as Hotch himself went, well, really they just kind of got off on the wrong foot. But he'd more than made up for it. And as far as she was concerned this was all ancient history. She kind of believed that maybe she wouldn't appreciate her teammates as much as she did if she couldn't look back and see how far they'd come.

It was a trial by fire but they'd come out stronger on the other side.

But she really wished that Hotch hadn't brushed off her question. She wanted to know what had gotten him so upset. She knew that temper, she'd seen it in action, and the fact that it had slipped so quickly that he'd inadvertently clenched his fingers into her flesh, well, she couldn't even imagine what could have popped into his head. But maybe someday she'd ask again and he'd tell her. Because she was quite sure he wasn't going to forget that moment. She knew he'd felt horrible for hurting her . . . she rubbed his back for a second . . . it was okay though. It was an accident. She'd almost elbowed him in the gut twenty minutes ago, and then there was that time she gave Derek a bloody nose because he'd startled her. She'd felt terrible about that, even though Derek said it was okay.

So she knew what it was like to accidentally hurt someone that you cared about. She felt him brush his fingers over that spot on her arm again and she involuntarily winced. Looks like it was going to bruise. She was startled when Hotch cleared his throat, he'd been quiet for a few minutes.

"Prentiss, can I please see your arm?"

She leaned back and gave him a small smile, "Hotch it was an accident. No harm done."

He dropped his eyes as he said quietly, "I'd feel better if I could see that for myself."

Emily looked at him for a second before nodding, "okay, if you really want to."

They walked back over to the wall where Emily rolled her sleeve up and twisted her arm around so she could see herself.

Two bright red oval marks.

She looked up, and for a second she actually thought Hotch was going to cry. He ran his index finger lightly around the outline where he'd branded her. Then he whispered, "I'm so sorry," before pulling his hand back and dropping his gaze to the floor.

Emily felt her eyes begin to sting . . . she should have said no. She shouldn't have let him look.

God Damn it!

Knowing that she only had a few minutes to fix this before Hotch truly began to hate himself, Emily pushed him back against the wall. But he still wouldn't look up. So she bent down and got right into his face.

"It was an accident," she said firmly, "that's it. End of discussion. I'm not angry. I've lost my temper before Hotch. I understand. And I understand how horribly you feel right now but really, it's okay. Now this would be a different conversation if you'd been angry _with_ me, and you had done this. But you weren't upset with me. You didn't DO this to me. All you did was get mad and make a fist. And," she tipped her head, "unfortunately I was sort of caught in between there."

She reached up and gently grasped his chin, making sure he was looking directly into her eyes before she said what somebody clearly should have said to him a long time ago.

"Now I know that you have some issues with your anger. But you've clearly seen that I do too. But what you have to remember here is, you didn't _hit_ me, you didn't _slap_ me, you didn't _punch_ me. You would NEVER do that," her eyes began to water, "so whatever is going through your head right now, and I can see something in your eyes, you need to let that go. Because you are _not_ that guy, and you are not going to _become_ that guy." Her expression softened as she moved her hand back to cup his jaw, "okay?"

Hotch looked hard at her for a second, looking for something he didn't see.

Anger . . . disappointment . . . blame.

She really believed everything she'd just said . . . his gaze fell . . . maybe he needed to start believing it too. Because when he'd seen that mark on her flesh . . . that mark that he had left there in a moment of rage . . . he had this horrible sinking feeling that he wasn't just going to become his father . . . he was going to become his stepfather too. That he'd spent so many years doing this terrible job that it was starting to tap into all of that stuff from when he was a kid. It wouldn't be enough to just lose his family. He wouldn't stop with just becoming his dad. No, in that moment when he saw that mark, he was terrified that he had moved on to become Gerald too.

That he was becoming _that_ guy.

The one that in a fit of rage loses his temper, and does something horrible to somebody close to him. He didn't want to become that guy. He couldn't live with himself if he did. He could hurt Jack. And he would die before he would do that. But maybe Emily was right. Maybe it really was . . . just an accident. He didn't mean to do it. He hadn't been angry with her. There was no intent to harm her.

The one thing that Hotch was always quite sure of when Gerald broke out the belt was that he very much INTENDED to wreak havoc. He intended to make the people closest to him suffer.

Hotch's gaze ran back up to Emily's face. And seeing her looking at him with such distress, his heart broke a little bit. And he realized then . . . he really wasn't that guy. And he _wasn't_ going to become him.

He reached for her, pulling her flush against his body before he buried his face in her hair.

"It was an accident," he took a shuddering breath as he choked out, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"That's right, it was an accident." Emily rubbed his back as a tear ran down her face, "you didn't mean to hurt me."

* * *

_A/N 2: I feel like I'm always making them cry lately. But please keep in mind these last few chapters have been spread out over the last couple months of their lives, and we've been hitting on some hot buttons that needed to be addressed before we can move on to making them well adjusted. Kinda. _

_It was a little tricky finding the right balance at the end because every good batterer always says 'it was just an accident'. But sometimes, it really is just an accident. But someone with Hotch's background would definitely struggle with that question, and whether it was a sign of bad things to come. And if you're so inclined you can read a little more about Hotch's step-father, 'Gerald' over in The Hours. Chp 44. If you haven't read the rest of The Hours, it wouldn't ruin anything. It's kind of a stand alone. Fun Fact: I actually named him for that Stephen King book, Gerald's Game. No offense if that's like a personal favorite name, but ever since I read that book, the full proper, non-nicknamed version has just given me the creeps. _

_I also liked the idea of writing the flipside of Emily always being the most attractive woman in the room and every man wants her. In reality, she's a single woman moving into her 40s and she's going to occasionally have some bad days as she sees she's not turning quite as many heads as she used to. Though personally I'm going with Hotch's theory that most of them just knew she was out of their league :) But still, it would still be a little blow to her ego, regardless of the reasons behind it. _

_As I did miss a posting I'd intended to put up this week, and, as I've stated, we're in good shape for a few weeks, so I think I can make up for the missing day and give you an extra chapter this weekend. Just one though! Don't want to run out of the stockpile! And the next couple chapters are much lighter in tone. Need a little break from all the angsting before we blow Hotch up, he goes deaf and Emily's taken hostage. Then Angst galore! _

_Next: __**"Breakfast of Champions"**_


	40. Enigma

**Author's Note**: This is a total throw away chapter. And by that I mean, it wasn't on the list and I wasn't planning to write it. But after I posted the last chapter Arc requested a Rossi observation piece on them dancing. And I kind of needed her to do me a favor so I said okay :) But I couldn't really do exactly what she wanted because I didn't want anybody else to see them upset. That was a very personal moment and it's too soon in their relationship for the team to have anything _substantive_ to speculate about. But she gave me an idea.

I guess I should disclose now, Rossi will be the all knowing observer for this story. Picture Hector Elizondo in Pretty Woman :) He picks up on the changes as their relationship evolves, and he's the only one that completely figures out towards the end that they're in love with each other. And because of that role he's already been given, I thought the idea of occasionally giving Dave his own "post ep" chapter consisting of a quickie one shot of internal dialogue would work well. Currently he just has a random paragraph in different chapters. But I like Dave, and it would be nice to find a way to use him more. So this way I can, to some extent, continue a scene without actually screwing up the dramatic scene break I'd already used between our leads.

So this is a companion to Chp. 39, "Letting Go."

* * *

_Episode – __Elephant's Memory_

_Mid April _

**Enigma**

Dave had been watching Hotch and Emily since they returned to the table. Something strange was going on. They both had red rimmed eyes. And Dave knew that most people would chalk it up to the alcohol, but he knew for a fact that they'd only had the one round before Hotch went to collect her at the bar. And they'd each been nursing a single beer since they'd been back. So clearly it _wasn't_ the alcohol. And there was no smoking in the bar so it wasn't an irritation.

So what the hell was it?

If he didn't know better he'd say that they had been crying. But that didn't make sense. It didn't make any sense at all. Because he'd never seen either of them shed a tear anywhere. Not to say that they didn't cry, but if they did, they sure as hell didn't do it in public. And you couldn't get any more public than a crowded Irish pub on a Friday night.

Beyond that though, Hotch hadn't left Emily's side once since they'd returned over an hour ago. Not that Dave disapproved of them spending time together, he'd been encouraging it. Emily was a good influence. But they weren't usually glued at the hip. So they were sitting close together . . . which was unusual . . . and rather than participating in the group conversation they just kept whispering in each other's ears, which was _very_ unusual.

That was just downright odd.

Occasionally something one said to the other would result in a faint smile, but mostly they just seemed subdued. And Dave wanted to call them out for the whispering. It was a little rude. But just as he was about to say something, Kevin bumped into Emily's arm, and even though he couldn't have hit her that hard . . . she winced slightly. But the strange thing was . . . Hotch did too.

Then Emily leaned over and murmured something in Hotch's ear. And he nodded once, and he looked down. And at the downward cast of his gaze, Dave understood then that something serious was going on. He also knew that if he brought attention to their behavior that it would hurt them.

So he let it go.

But through the veil of his lashes, Dave kept sneaking glances at the two of them, both with their eyes hedged by crimson . . . and he wondered . . . what the hell had happened while they were away?

* * *

_A/N 2: As this is a throwaway chapter that isn't really moving the story forward, it will __**not**__ count against the extra one I'd already promised :) So you'll get one more tonight, and then three this weekend! And please remember, if you ever want to see anything just shoot me a line. I don't just take requests from Arc. Even if I can't work it in immediately like I did this one, I will make every effort to incorporate your request in future chapters._

_Oh! And tonight's chapter is co-written by Arc! That's why I needed the favor, I got stuck playing in my 'all dialogue, all the time' chapter and she ended up giving me a tow when I got stuck in the mud :)_

_So, next up, for real this time, will be __**"Breakfast of Champions"**_


	41. Breakfast of Champions

**Author's Note:** Because my little 'dialogue only' experiment in Season 2 went pretty well, I got all adventurous and tried doing it again. Except, because I was going longer, I got a little stuck in the middle and Arc had to help pull me out of the mud. And because I couldn't have finished it without her, she gets full co-writing credit! Yay Arc!

This is them in Miami, just any random day at breakfast. Hopefully you can tell who's saying what but please don't hesitate to ask if you have a question. And this is just pure fluff.

* * *

_Episode – __In Heat_

_Mid April_

**Breakfast of Champions**

"Did you have a girl in your room last night?"

"Shush Emily! Hotch'll hear you!"

"Hotch will hear what?"

"Morning sir. I ordered you a coffee."

"Thanks Prentiss. Now what was it that I wasn't supposed to hear?"

"That Derek had a girl in his room last night."

"EMILY!"

"Well that's what you get for kicking me _Derek_!"

"Hotch it's not what you think!"

"Morgan . . . we've talked about this."

"Talked about what?"

"Dave."

"Morning Dave."

"Hey."

"That was a rather _lackluster_ greeting there Agent Morgan. Is there some problem?"

"Derek had a girl in his room."

"God Emily! Tell the whole planet why don't you!"

"Well, I'm still pissed off about the kicking!"

"Prentiss . . ."

"Oh . . . shit. Sorry. Here, let me clean it up."

"Ah! No! No, thank you, I'll get it."

"Really Emily, stop grabbing Hotch's dick."

"MORGAN!"

"MORGAN! You apologize to her now!"

"zspf dsfsf."

"I'm sorry Agent Morgan, I couldn't quite HEAR you! So I'm pretty sure Agent Prentiss didn't either."

"I _said_ 'sorry Prentiss.'"

"Much better Morgan. Thank you. Now did you really think that was the best way to distract me from the original thread of this conversation?"

". . . ."

"That wasn't rhetorical Morgan."

"Oh, well, then, uh, no?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Uh, telling?"

"Hey Derek, did anyone ever tell you that when your voice keeps going up at the end of a statement like that, it _continues_ to make it an interrogatory?"

"Seriously girl, you are getting on my last nerve!"

"Uh, Morgan you just kicked me that time."

"Ah man! Sorry Dave."

"What did you do to Dave?"

"JJ!"

"Morning JJ."

"I'm fine, it's just a little kick to the shin."

"A kick that was meant for _me_!"

"Why did you . . ."

"You deserved it."

"You're the one who had a . . ."

"At least I didn't molest my boss!"

". . . GIRL IN YOUR ROOM!"

"Damn it, Emily!"

"Alright both of you, that's enough."

"Whoa, seriously guys, what's going on?"

"Nothing important JJ. They're just behaving like any normal siblings would."

"That's because Emily sticks her nose in where it's NOT wanted!"

"Uh, no! It's just because you're an ASS!"

". . . ."

". . . ."

"Wait, whoa back up! Derek, you had a GIRL in your room!"

"Hey guys! What's going on?"

". . . ."

"Uh . . . guys?"

"JJ, why is everyone glaring at each other?"

"Oh, hey Reid. Morning. Sorry, I got distracted by all the drama. Well, I just got here, but apparently Morgan had a girl in his room, then for some reason he kicked Dave, but he MEANT to kick Emily, but I don't really know why he was assaulting either of them. And then Derek accused Emily of molesting Hotch, I'm pretty sure there was more to that story, and then Derek said Emily was a busybody and she called him an ass and then that little thing over Hotch's temple started twitching and he gave them both like the death glare and they shut up."

"Wait, back up, Derek, had _a_ girl in his room?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what Emily said."

"Damn it Morgan! You told me it was twins!"

"SHUT UP SPENCER!"

* * *

_A/N 2: The last line "SHUT UP SPENCER" is the exact last line in the prior dialogue one. It's really a great prompt! I definitely might try doing one more in season 4 just to see if I can end it on the same line again._

_I should probably point out that though "Breakfast of Champions" is the title of a Vonnegut novel, I did __**NOT**__ know that. TFM was kind enough to point it out to me. So lest anyone think I was being all clever pulling in the Emily/Morgan favorite author thing, no. I got a lucky break. I just needed a phrase with breakfast in the title. Like Hotch, I'm not really familiar that with Vonnegut's work. Not that that really excuses my ignorance because when I googled the phrase literally a half million results came back so basically that was a real 'go me' moment. Yeah._

_Anyway, I'll be posting this weekend through Lo Fi. I've decided to blow up Hotch on Monday. But there are two chapters for Mayhem so you're not getting short changed!_

_And I know it's been a long time since it's come up, but if you recall, when there are extra chapters coming down the pike, reviews make them go up faster :)_

_Next: __**"Reunited, It Feels So Good!"**_


	42. Reunited, It Feels So Good!

**Author's Note****: ** With Hotch & Dave in Boston and Emily et al working that stalking case, they were separated for the entirety of this episode. So this is a post ep when the guys got back in town. Just a quickie but still long enough to make my point. I used to write short ones in The Hours all the time but now if I'm posting less than three thousands I feel like I dropped the ball or something. Though I should note here though that I've already exceeded the posted length of The Hours by 40k words and we're barely halfway through this story. So clearly the quickies have been few and far between :)

* * *

_Episode – The Crossing_

_Late April_

**Reunited, It Feels **_**So**_** Good!**

"Hold that door!"

Emily hit the 'hold door' button to allow Dave and Hotch to hurry onto the elevator. Hotch nodded a hello as he stepped to the side and then Dave turned to Emily. He was waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Miss me?"

She grinned back.

"I did Dave," then she turned to Hotch, "you too sir. With you two gone there was an alpha male vacuum, so Morgan and Reid started fighting over who was going to drive." Emily rolled her eyes, "as if we'd _ever_ let Reid drive."

Seeing Rossi and Hotch nod their agreement, she continued talking.

"And ordinarily Hotch, of course you would have been default driver with Dave as backup, and if anybody squawked you'd just shoot them, The Glare, and they'd shut up."

Rossi quickly hid his smile at Hotch's reaction to that observation on his managerial technique. And then he saw Emily continue on, oblivious to the look she was now getting from her boss.

"So JJ's getting pissed off," Emily wrinkled her brow as a thought came to her, "she's been a bit cranky lately," then she shook her head, "anyway, I was afraid she was going to erupt and kill one of them, so I intervened and smacked them both in the back of the head and took the keys." Her gaze dropped down to the back of her hand.

"I hurt my knuckles. Do you know how hard Derek's skull is without any hair there for a buffer?" She huffed out a puff of air, "really, if you two are going to make a habit of going off and leaving me alone with them, then Hotch, I'm going to have to request that you order him to grow his hair back. I'm going to end up with some sort of work place injury otherwise."

Dave began to chuckle as Hotch's jaw quivered.

"Well Prentiss," he cleared his throat, "though I will of course take your request under advisement, Dave and I have no plans to go off and leave you three alone again anytime soon." He gave her a look, "so I think you can holster the workman's comp claim for now."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm going to hold you to that sir. I can't be responsible for what accidents could befall the two of them the next time you go out of town."

The elevator reached their parking level as Hotch nodded in response.

"Thank you Agent. Your warning is duly noted."

Emily . . . registering the obvious amusement on Hotch's face . . . shot him a wink.

That was a rarity worthy of special acknowledgment. She was still smiling as the door opened and they got off the elevator.

"See you guys in the morning!"

And she was off before either of them could respond.

Rossi's amused gaze followed after Emily as she walked to her car. And then he turned to see that Hotch was also staring after their attractive colleague. And he was looking quite intently.

Interesting.

So Rossi decided to poke the bear.

"Emily certainly is a breath of fresh air isn't she?"

Hotch didn't respond immediately, as at that moment Emily noted them still watching to make sure that she got to her car safely. She gestured a 'you can go now' hand wave at the two of them, which they ignored as they continued to remain motionless. Finally rolling her eyes in exasperation, she climbed into the car and slammed the door shut.

Hotch's lip quirked up.

"That's one way to describe her."

* * *

_A/N 2: Two more before Monday._

Next: **"****Ex Aequo Et Bono" **


	43. Ex Aequo et Bono

**Author's Note:** First, Happy Easter if anyone is so inclined to be celebrating. And if you're not, just Happy Sunday, or Monday, wherever you are on the Gregorian calendar. I need to get over to my folks house but I thought I'd try and be nice and post before I left for a day of 'family fun,' or 'family fighting.' There's usually some alliteration there but it's generally kind of a tossup on which way it's gonna go :)

Post ep for the flashback episode where we saw Reid with some seriously greasy hair. I know that it was all long and stringy because of the writer's strike, but dude, dial down the product!

The title for this one came way back when from Dancer in Disguise. She gave it to me while I was soliciting prompts over in The Hours. I think it worked out well for this chapter, and it helped give me a clear theme when before I just had a fuzzy concept of what I wanted to write. So thanks :)

You can probably guess that it's Latin, and the definition I found that I liked the most was: _"something that is to be decided by principles of what is fair and just."_

* * *

_Episode - Tabula Rasa_

_Early May_

**Ex Aequo Et Bono **

Emily looked up as she heard somebody opening the glass doors to the BAU. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as her late night visitor started across the room.

"Hotch," she called out, "what are you doing back here? It's late, I thought you would have just headed straight home."

Christ, was he sleeping here now?

Hotch walked up to her desk and sighed, "I dropped Reid off but I had some of the evidence from the case, I wanted to secure it tonight." He paused for a second, "you know he pled out?"

Emily nodded, "yeah, Dave told me."

He looked at her for a moment before moving back to sit on the corner of her desk, placing his box on the floor.

"Can I ask you something Prentiss?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe it?" At Prentiss' puzzled look Hotch clarified, "do you really believe we did this to him? That when he hit that pavement his hard drive was wiped, and then when he woke up we reinstalled all the same defective programs again?"

Ever since she had said that, the idea had been haunting him. That it was their fault.

Biting her lip, Emily shook her head slowly.

"I don't know," she shifted in her seat, "possibly. But did it really make any difference in the long run? Couldn't the same result have simply come about the first time he watched the horrors on one local television newscast?" She rolled her eyes as she leaned back in her chair, "either way Hotch, Rossi and Morgan are right, _those_ hands, they killed those women."

Hotch started working his jaw as Emily continued, warming to her topic, "that said, I also think, that it's right and it's proper, that we question ourselves in moments like this," she huffed, "I mean God, our entire _careers_ are focused on delving into the minds of these men and women to find the monsters inside of them. We can't one day decide that it doesn't matter whether that monster lives there anymore."

As he stared at the floor, was slowly nodding his agreement to her words. But Emily could see that this was genuinely bothering him and she knew that she didn't have an answer that was going to comfort him.

There just _wasn't_ a black or white answer to quantify what they had done.

Though . . . she glanced over to her computer . . . even if she couldn't help him navigate this moral quagmire, maybe she could at least cheer him up a little.

Her fingers slid under her keyboard and she slipped out the folded piece of paper. Then with an internal rolling of her eyes . . . she couldn't believe she was doing this . . . she opened it and passed it over to him with a little smile.

"I think you might have missed this when it was making the rounds earlier."

It took Hotch a second to realize what he was looking at, but then . . . even though no teeth were displayed . . . both dimples made an appearance. He looked over at Prentiss who shrugged her shoulders as she grinned at him.

The Winona Ryder Years.

Sometimes . . . Hotch felt a wave of affection for the woman next to him . . . she would do little things like this, things just to make him feel better, and he would wonder what he ever did before she came into his life.

After he carefully folded her senior class picture back into a small square, he handed it back to her with a grateful nod. The incriminating photo was immediately tucked back under her keyboard.

Hotch looked at her for a second before leaning down to pick up his evidence box.

"Let me just lock this in my office."

Then . . . seeing she was shutting down her computer . . . he tipped his head.

"Are you about ready to go?"

At her nod, he stood up, "okay, give me a minute and I'll walk you to your car."

Emily shot him a little smile as she said softly, "kay."

Good . . . she sighed to herself as she turned to pick up her files . . . he did seem better now.

Leaving Emily to finish gathering her paperwork, Hotch ran up and put the box in his office. After he'd grabbed the new files from his in-bin, he stepped back out, locking his door before he continued back down the stairs.

Emily was pulling on her suit jacket as he stepped off the last riser.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

They started across the room, Hotch leaning past her when they got to the glass door so he could hold it open for her.

He could be chivalrous off hours, it just wouldn't do when they were on the clock.

As they stood waiting for the elevator Hotch turned to Emily.

"You know," he stated conversationally, "you might want to put that picture somewhere safe. We're getting new photos taken for our IDs next month, if that's fresh in Garcia's head, she might get some ideas."

Emily quirked up her lip, "thanks for the heads up sir."

* * *

_A/N 2: I thought as far as missing scenes went this was fairly realistic. This was definitely a moral quagmire for Hotch and it was clear that Emily's statements on the subject were the ones that were really hitting home with him. He just listened as the guys were talking but he actually flinched when she was making her points. So I think he might have come to her later and asked if she really did believe what she'd said. And then I just liked the idea of tying that awful picture back in with the story she'd told him about her 'Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice' look, which is really totally what that was!_

_Also, I wanted to thank everyone for all the great reviews I got yesterday! You know I like to send an individual thanks where I can but I've still been kind of sick so I wasn't really able to do it. But I wanted you to know I still was very appreciative :)_

_And now, finally, we've reached the season finale! Tonight I will post for 'Lo Fi' and then we will be straight AU from here on out._

_Next: __**"Pretzels & Prentiss"**_


	44. Pretzels & Prentiss

**Author's Note:** Season Finale! Yay! Okay, two missing scenes. The first one takes place the night they find out JJ's pregnant. The second, like 2 seconds after they cut away from the crime scene where Detective Cooper got shot.

Don't forget this is the last double posting for awhile folks. Starting tomorrow, back to just daily. Daily will last as long as I can make it last :) Though I am happy to say that now that I've finally finished season three, the muse has broken loose! She lickety split wrote three chapters today, all to fill in more of the summer bits we'll be moving into shortly. So thus far, things are shaping up nicely for a smooth run for the foreseeable future.

Also, I am feeling better, so you'll notice I'm back to my usual random ramblings at the end :)

* * *

_Episode – Lo Fi_

_Late May_

**Pretzels & Prentiss**

Seeing the flash of hurt on Hotch's face after hearing the news about JJ, Emily debated following after him as he left the lobby. No, he probably wanted to be alone. She went up to her own room and tried to watch television to unwind. Yeah, that wasn't happening. Not only was this case driving her mad but she kept seeing Hotch's blink and you miss it flinch. He so rarely allowed his mask to slip, let alone to show he'd been injured in some fashion. JJ keeping that news from him must have really hurt him.

Damn it.

With an exaggerated sigh Emily pushed herself off the bedspread and went over to dig in her bag for an item she could use as misdirection. Yes! Chocolate covered pretzels. He liked those. She had kicked off her boots but was still wearing her gun so, after her checking her pockets for a key card, she figured she had everything she needed and padded down the hall to knock on Hotch's door.

The man himself opened the door with a slightly puzzled expression, "Prentiss?"

Emily smiled sweetly as she held up the bag, "pretzel, sir?"

Hotch looked at the bag of treats, down to her bare feet, and then back up to the cheerful grin his agent was wearing at two in the morning. Either she'd been smoking something illegal, or she'd come to check on him and thought she should bring some armament. Giving her a bemused look, he stepped back and gave her a nod to enter.

They didn't say anything as they sat down on Hotch's still made bed; he had of course still been working. Emily crossed her legs under her before she dumped out the pretzels on a napkin between them. Hotch looked at her, as she very carefully did not look at him.

"Did you know?"

Emily flinched slightly as she picked up a pretzel.

"What's that sir?"

"About JJ? Did you know?"

"Well," she swallowed her bite, "of course we'd all figured out about Will," he nodded, "and I had my suspicions about her recurrent 'flu' but, I didn't know for sure."

Hotch nodded as he unconsciously played with the twisted chocolate shapes, "would you have told me?"

"About JJ," Emily frowned, "I don't know. Probably not, it wouldn't have been my news to tell."

He shook his head, "no, I meant if it was you. Would you have told me if you were pregnant?"

Emily gave him a soft smile as she looked him in the eye, "yes, I would have definitely told you."

At Hotch's slightly crestfallen look that perhaps JJ didn't trust him like he thought she did, Emily quickly clarified, "but Hotch, that's because I'm always in the field. And if I was going to kick down doors with a mini me expanding my waist line, well, that's going to throw off my center of gravity, and that's information you probably would need to know." She jiggled her head from side to side as she looked at the ceiling, "plus if I want my kid to be able to count to ten I should probably take a break from the door kicking and the UNSUB tackling, lest I risk mini me accidentally taking one for Team Prentiss."

Hotch gave her a droll look, "good call Prentiss, those vests are intended to stop bullets, not provide a magical shield of protection for unformed fetuses."

Emily's attempt at levity helped him, but he sobered quickly. He wasn't sure how to handle this situation. It hadn't come up before. He looked back to her.

"So if you were in JJ's position you'd be okay with me taking you out of the field? You wouldn't fight me?"

Shaking her head Emily slowly chewed her pretzel, "no sir, I wouldn't fight you," then she snorted slightly, "not that you have to worry about me being in JJ's position. Not unless somebody writes a sequel to that Baby in a Manger story anyway."

Hotch's jaw quivered at her disclosure, "well if they're looking to cast a Joseph for part two let me know," he finally stopped playing with his food and threw one of the pretzels in his mouth, "he seemed to get the raw end of the deal there too."

It wasn't until after the words were out of his mouth that he realized that in context with their near dalliance five months ago that it might appear he was asking her to keep him in mind if she wanted to have sex. He gave an internal eye roll. Idiot. Well she was either going to mercilessly bust his balls now or let it go completely. He sent up a silent prayer, please God let it be the second one.

Emily raised an eyebrow. That statement definitely required further exploration. Contrary to team gossip it appeared he was _not_ boffing the chick from the BBC. Interesting. Hotch had also just implied he wanted to have sex with her, but she figured that was just an unfortunate choice of phrasing on his part so she decided to let it go. She pursed her lips.

"Really? I assumed you'd be 'liasing' with Agent Joyner?" At the narrowing of his eyes, Emily quickly tacked on a "sir." She'd found she could get away with saying almost anything if she did it half assed respectfully.

Hotch hid his amusement at her old standby method of screwing with him, and decided to answer her anyway. It was the middle of the night, what the hell did he care? He was just grateful she decided to let the other thing go.

"No, I am not," holding a pretzel he made an air quote to mock her insinuation "'liasing,' with Kate. She and I are just old friends." He made a face, "besides that would be kind of creepy Prentiss. Don't you think she looks exactly like my ex-wife?"

Emily swallowed her last bit of pretzel with a gulp, "does she? I hadn't noticed."

She _had_ noticed, it _was_ creepy, and though her boss' sex life, with the exception of one near miss in a public bathroom, was generally none of her business, she was very relieved to know that he was self aware enough not to have wandered down the road to set up camp in Doppelganger'ville. That was just a short ride to Crazy Town. Nothing good was going to come out of the choice to sleep with a person who looked exactly like your ex. Well, he'd get laid, but there'd be a whole self loathing thing that would come later that would pretty much completely negate any positive effects from the prior exertion. Not that Emily had an experience in this area. Certainly not.

They polished off the last of the snack bag of pretzels in silence and Emily brushed the crumbs off her hands.

"Okay, well I should probably get going, murderers to catch and all."

Hotch nodded as she stood up, him following her to the door and leaning on the jamb as he made sure she got safely back to her room. His eyes crinkled slightly as she cursed her key card after the second unsuccessful swipe. She ran it through again and the little green light came on as she muttered, "thank you God."

Emily had just put her hand on the knob as Hotch called out, "Prentiss, thanks," she turned back and he gave her a little smile, ". . . for the pretzels."

She smiled back as she paused before stepping into her doorway.

"Anytime sir."

They both nodded a good night and stepped back into their respective hotel rooms. Their doors making simultaneous clicks as they fell shut.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Hotch looked over as a flash of dark hair caught his eye. Emily. Excusing himself from his conversation with Kate and Dave, he exited the alley.

As he got closer Hotch could see she looked pretty shaken up, and he was hard pressed to recall ever seeing Emily Prentiss look like that on duty before. He'd seen her upset off duty, but she was never rattled on the job. This was unsettling. Of course this whole damn thing was unsettling.

"Prentiss are you okay?"

Turning slightly to face him, Emily gave Hotch a tight smile, "yes sir."

In actuality it was very much a 'no sir' but they were on duty and she absolutely refused to discuss this with him right now.

The words were belied by the fact that she was frantically rubbing her hands up and down her arms like she was cold. Hotch hoped that wasn't shock. Then he noted that she was missing half of the suit she'd had on earlier. Maybe she really was cold.

Gesturing to the side, he guided her over to a doorway of one of the now empty storefronts, "where's your jacket?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, "hopefully still staunching the flow of Detective Cooper's blood."

Biting his lip, he slowly exhaled, "right. How is he?" Good one Aaron. Way to be an insensitive ass.

Emily's eyes glazed over slightly as she whispered, "not good."

At that moment Hotch flashed on her as she was the night before, when she'd shown up barefoot at his door, just wanting to make sure he was okay. His face softened as he lowered his own voice, "you did good work Prentiss." Emily could feel her eyes burn as she croaked out a husky, "thank you sir," and then she took a deep breath as she quickly pulled herself back together. When she faced him again her eyes were clear, as was her voice when she spoke.

"Morgan told you what happened with the shooting?"

Seeing that she had fully encased herself in her armament once more, Hotch nodded as he turned back towards the alley with her stepping in beside him, "we need to get back to the office and hash this out."

Working her jaw Emily nodded her agreement as they rejoined the others. They quickly dispersed back to their respective vehicles for the drive back to the federal building. As Emily paused before she started the Tahoe, she thought about the group assembled for this case, they had the knowledge, they had the experience, she was confident they could figure this out before anyone else had to die.

And with that final thought she slid in the key and turned the ignition.

* * *

_A/N 2: And now you have to be wondering, did I blow up Emily too? I mean we are in the AU, I can technically do any damn thing I please. I could leave you hanging but . . . I won't. _

_No, I didn't blow up Emily. That was just a little literary device we like to call 'foreshadowing' :) I was going to continue the scene and then I thought eh, we'll just stop there and make it a real season finale cliffhanger. I'm sure it was incredibly frightening :)_

_I will say if canon Emily didn't check on Hotch, I seriously hope somebody did! He looked so hurt! Poor thing. I'd also like to believe that Hotch, with all his behavioral/psych training would be self aware enough NOT to hook up with a cold hearted chick that looks just like the one that just broke his heart. Because that's just F'D UP! And beyond that, if they were together and __then__ she died, that just makes Hotch a character worthy of his own Greek tragedy. Which I suppose would explain why he's still so screwed up a year later . . . No, no, I can't go there. They did NOT sleep together, even in canon. I have decreed it. _

_I also wholeheartedly believe my missing scene from the shooting actually happened. Because if you look at it closely, in the 12 seconds they run the scene after Hotch gets there, they don't see each other. Every other time one of them has been involved in an 'incident', as __soon__ as Hotch spots them, he runs over. So I have no doubt he did that here too, we just didn't get to see it. Between that and Colorado that's TWO missed opportunities for H/P love in the canonverse. I did address both instances in this story, but they need to work on that for next year. Seriously, I think every other ship has had their little 'aw' moment, and the H/P'ers are still just mostly working off subtext (locker room scene notwithstanding). We're totally due for some payoff next year! Though if you haven't seen the cast photo for next season, you should check it out. That does seem to indicate that TPTB understand there's now an H/P contingency out there! _

_Next: __**"Maelstrom"**_


	45. Maelstrom

**Author's Note:** Season opener. I think the best description would be Arc's scribble on the top of her beta comments - Hotch Go Boom :(

I honestly kept this chapter as close to canon as I possibly could because I really loved that whole last like fifteen minutes and I didn't want to screw it up by putting in something that detracted from it. So what I did was to start internal dialogue from the moment Emily sees Hotch in the hospital, and then that segues into missing scenes connecting them all the way to the end of that night. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. It's intended to 'enhance' your viewing pleasure :)

And if you've seen the segment recently please note I made a real effort to match movements with thoughts in the opening dialogue section. I'll explain more at the end about that.

*******************************************

_Episode – Mayhem_

_Late May_

**Maelstrom**

Hotch looked . . . not too bad. Not good, but considering what happened to him less than an hour ago, Emily had braced herself for him to look a hell of a lot worse.

"Are you okay?"

She knew he would lie and say yes, and that he would immediately move off the topic of his well being so she wouldn't press the issue. Emily also knew why she was the only one that even bothered to ask the question. It was understood that Hotch was going back to work right now regardless of whether or not he was fit to do so. They all knew that. But Emily didn't think that meant they shouldn't express their concern anyway. He almost died. Yes, that happens in their job occasionally, but this one was really close. Really, really close. And sometimes they should stop for a moment and acknowledge these things. They were always so busy moving on to the next thing that they never took the time to let each other know that they cared. Of course it was understood, but even things that are understood should be expressed on occasion. It takes literally two seconds, 'glad you're not dead,' or 'are you okay?' It wasn't going to slow them down or make them less efficient. If she had to be the one that always did it, well she was fine with that.

And now, he was having trouble putting on the vest. She had to physically fight the urge to reach over and help him. He wouldn't appreciate it. Not when he was doing everything possible to pretend like he was totally fine. And if he was totally fine then he would not need Prentiss to help him put on his Kevlar. That's right Reid, just keep the conversation going. Oh Jesus Christ now his ear is bleeding! And he's pretending like blood running out of his ear is not an event worthy of having attention drawn it to it. Fine. Then we'll pretend too. Like Hotch always conducts briefings with blood running out of an orifice in his skull. Completely normal.

That's good guys, keep talking and she'll continue NOT looking at the bloody tissue. Because if she looks at it then she'll want to say something like, 'for Christ's sake Hotch you clearly have no business standing up and walking around, let alone strapping on a vest and sidearm!' Something that will make her feel better for about ten seconds but won't accomplish a damn thing because he's just going to give her that look, and she's going to sigh and close her eyes for a second and the next thing out of her mouth will be an observation about the case and they'll both pretend like she didn't say anything at all about his health, or God forbid, her concern for him. They didn't discuss such things. So she tried to just focus on the more urgent business at hand, preventing a mass murder that evening.

God, now they're running the bombing footage again. She winced slightly. She kept thinking it would get easier to see Hotch get picked up and tossed like a rag doll, but . . . it didn't. It still sucked, every . . . single . . . time. She knew him being thrown is absolutely what saved his life, but that only helped her head, not her gut. Her gut was still very displeased. She looked over to him. How is he watching this? They didn't make victims watch video of their attacks, it was cruel. But there was no way Hotch was going to abstain from seeing it. She knew if their positions were reversed she'd be doing the same thing, but it still didn't make it any easier to see somebody you care about be tormented like that.

'Oh look there's where my eardrum ruptured. And that right there is where I slammed into the pavement going thirty mph. And there's my friend Agent Joyner. Her body is being shredded by shrapnel . . . right . . . THERE! And now if you look closely, you can see she's beginning to bleed out on the sidewalk.'

Yeah, that's healthy for him to see.

/////

Damn it Derek! She really wished she'd seen him slipping off, because even though it would have pissed him off, she definitely would have called Hotch's attention to it. He needed to stop going off and playing cowboy! She knew he only had the best intentions but he never stopped to think that when he ran off alone it was a distraction to the rest of them. If they weren't sure everyone was safe and accounted for it was just one more thing to worry about. But she still tried to push him to the side of her concerns for now. Given what the Secret Service had just told them about their VIP, they knew now there was a big fish with a big bomb somewhere in the building.

Usually Hotch would have been in the front of their search grid, but even he knew that was a bad idea right now, so Dave and Reid took point and Emily pulled up as rear guard. Keeping one eye open for their suspected terrorist, and one eye on Hotch to make sure he didn't drop, or God forbid get himself killed. The two of them checked the side doors as they went, ensuring nobody could slip up behind them. She reluctantly separated from him only when Reid pointed out the blood that they followed to the mystery paramedic sitting silently on the ground. He was holding his cell phone in one hand and a large hunting knife in the other. Hotch ordered him to put them down.

But instead of surrendering peacefully, Emily watched as a man slit his own throat. There's one more picture for the memory book. They reholstered their weapons and Hotch reached down to secure the knife. She snapped her jaw as she turned away. Through their earpieces they heard Morgan saying he was okay, and that the bomb had detonated safely. Thank God for that. Derek called Hotch himself as they were walking back towards the elevators, and though he fell back slightly she knew from Hotch's tone that he wasn't pleased that Morgan had gone off alone, again. Though they couldn't argue with the results on this one, there was a good possibility that Derek's actions tonight had saved all of their lives. But still, one of these days, he was going to get himself killed. And probably in a stupid, tragic situation where they could have found another way if only he would trust them the way they trusted him.

But, Emily thought as she eyed Hotch hanging up his phone, Derek's recklessness was Hotch's problem to address. She'd tattle on Morgan if she saw him going off, but she wasn't going to talk to him about it herself. He already knew Hotch got pissed when he did it. And she loved them both equally so she wasn't going to openly choose sides on this issue.

Clicking off his call with Morgan Hotch shook his head. Derek was responsible for at least a few of his grey hairs. He looked up to see Emily had stopped to wait for him. And there was someone who was responsible for a few more. Though for different reasons. He knew she was worried he was going to drop any minute. And now that the adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, he was starting to be slightly concerned about that himself. That was until his brain suddenly refocused. Kate! Another jolt went through his system. Oh Jesus! She was going into emergency surgery when he last saw her! He started to run towards the stairs with Emily jogging to catch up.

"What's wrong?"

Panting, "Kate," he turned up the next staircase. He really wasn't in any condition to be running up stairs but fortunately it was only a few flights. He smashed through the fire door and started to jog down to the operating theater. Slowing as they got closer and then stopping completely for a moment to catch his breath. He could feel Emily's hand on his back.

"Hotch?"

To her unspoken question he gasped, "I'm fine," as he tried desperately to regulate his breathing. Emily bit her lip as she pulled her hand back. He didn't look fine but she wasn't going to say it.

She could see he was still winded, but by what she was sure was sheer force of will, he straightened up and continued on down the corridor anyway, pulling off his vest as he went.

Leaning back against the wall Emily waited for him to return. Hopefully Joyner was all right. Basically it was all a matter of clean up now and Dave and Reid were still downstairs coordinating with the NYPD and the Secret Service. By morning all of this would just be paperwork. She looked up as the surgeon exited and shook his head at her. Oh God. Though Emily hadn't warmed up to her as a person, Kate Joyner clearly had been an exceptional agent and her loss was a tragedy for both her family and the bureau. The door opened again a moment later and Hotch came out looking slightly shell shocked. Emily pursed her lips in sympathy, his day really just kept getting worse. She went over to him and started to say she was sorry, but he straightened up, shaking off her concern, so she decided to let it go. Agent Joyner was his friend, he'd grieve in his own way.

They went down to the ground floor to find Dave and Reid again. And Hotch of course immediately tried to take back control of the FBI portion of the proceedings. But Dave gave it about five minutes of watching Hotch turn from pale to ashen before he gave Emily a look and whispered something in Hotch's ear. Hotch deflated slightly but then he nodded and looked over to her as she dangled her keys by her leg.

They walked silently out to her SUV, both only hesitating slightly as they reached for the door handles. On the off chance somebody had rigged Emily's vehicle while she was in the hospital, they were well past minimum safe distance now. If it did blow up the next thing they'd see were the Pearly Gates anyway.

Emily didn't flinch as she started the engine. She was too old to develop a new phobia. Putting her foot on the break, she then shifted to Drive before looking over to Hotch. He put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

"She looked so much like Haley."

Emily didn't respond. She just sighed and tapped the steering wheel for a moment before she took her foot off the brake, turned the wheel and pulled out into the bustling city traffic.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: If you're familiar with that interview Paget Brewster did right before Demonology, you'll know she said the director had to stop the scene when they did the first take in that hospital room shot because she was "looking at Hotch like she was in love with him." So, presumably that's why in the final cut she very specifically kept looking __away__ from him, because PB didn't want to get yelled at again! But that was great for me, because then I could totally come up with my own reason on why she couldn't look at him. Though none of those reasons was quite as good as the actual truth of the story, which just cracks me up. _

_I thought the fillers I put with Emily following him up to the operating room actually made sense. She clearly was keeping pace with him all the way down because he was so unsteady on his feet, so it wouldn't have been illogical to assume she would have gone back upstairs with him too. And I think once all that was over Dave would have made him leave. For God's sake if anything counts as legit sick time, it's having blood running out of your ear!_

_And the Derek playing cowboy thing, I think that's a fascinating little character quirk that I seriously hope the show comes back to again. Sometimes they drop some good threads but I do hope they return to that one. Even if they don't, I wrote a massive chapter later in the AU that addresses it where he does it one too many times and things go very, very wrong. Because the law of averages says eventually that's gonna happen. Which is why I wish the show would go back to it. I guess it would be helpful to say here, given that there are six months left in their year, I spread out all the rest of the season 4 eps I'm covering over the summer, and then they pick up again in November. That way I had at least a few months where I could do whatever I wanted to them, without it impacting what was seen in the canon eps. So basically all bets are off in terms of the possibility of personal injuries, major team strife, whatever. Short of actually KILLING one of them, the sky's the limit kids!_

_I wrote one more chapter for this episode, a missing scene from the next day, and that'll go up tomorrow._

_Next: __**"The Use in Trying"**_


	46. The Use in Trying

**Author's Note:** In the interest of full disclosure I have to say I shamelessly borrowed the title of this chapter from another author. There's a girl over in the West Wing fandom, annemflynn, who is currently writing a story under this title. And I just loved the title and wanted to use it but, on the million to one shot she actually reads CM, credit where credit is due :)

Second chapter for Mayhem. Another missing scene. First thing in the morning before Em goes to the hospital or Hotch meets Derek at the car.

This is the one that sets the tone for the big shift in their relationship.

*******************************************

_Episode – Mayhem_

_Late May_

**The Use in Trying**

Emily was just zipping up her bag as she heard a knock on her hotel room door. Going over she opened it without checking the keyhole.

"Hotch," her eyes widened as she looked him over, "are you okay?"

He'd been ten feet from that SUV when it had blown up the night before. Though she knew he was banged up, and had some kind of hearing damage, he'd really been damn lucky he hadn't been more seriously injured, especially given what had happened to Agent Joyner.

Hotch's expression softened as Prentiss switched from casual hello to worried den mother.

"I'm fine. I actually came to check on you."

Emily looked at him quizzically, "me? I wasn't the one they were pulling shrapnel out of last night."

Hotch always appreciated her blunt commentary and he nodded his agreement, "that's true. But _I_ wasn't the one that had to shoot a seventeen year old boy yesterday. And _I_ wasn't the one who had her partner, temporary though he may have been, gunned down in front of her."

As Hotch stared intently into her eyes, Emily could feel a sad smile touch her lips, "that's all true, sir, but please don't worry about me. I'm okay. He might have only been seventeen, but, he was a bad man. I'm not happy that it had to end like that, but," nodding to herself she looked down to the cuts on his hands, "I was doing my job." Looking up, she brightened a little, "and Detective Cooper, he's going to be okay. I'm going to stop in and say goodbye before we leave, but I talked to his wife last night and she said he can go home soon."

She looked at him sympathetically, "in every way possible sir, my day was a cakewalk compared to yours."

Hotch was, as he often found himself lately, very impressed with Emily Prentiss. Both at her ability to rationally review each situation and almost immediately catalogue and file her emotional reaction to it, Hotch did that himself, but also, she retained her ability to empathize and express that empathy in a way that comforted others. Hotch knew that was not a skill that he himself possessed. He could clinically assess other people, and feel for them, but he couldn't always . . . connect with them. He realized then that there were things he could learn from Prentiss.

Things that might make him a better man.

He hadn't slept last night. He was wrapped up in reviewing the events of the past couple of days. Kate had died, bled out in front of him, and there wasn't anything he could do for her. And when he'd placed her cold hand back under that sheet, he was grieved for his fallen colleague, but he also realized he'd lost one of the few friends he had still kept in touch with over the past few years. Last night he'd thought hard about that. She had died, and by the grace of God, and a miracle of physics, he had only escaped with minimal injuries.

But if things had gone a different way, who did he have in his life that would even mourn him if he was gone?

He'd felt a stab, he would leave his boy without a father, but as horrible as that would be, who else would even miss him? Be personally affected by his death? Haley perhaps to some extent, though things had turned sour in their marriage, they had been college sweethearts, married for two decades, and recently they been working on healing those wounds they'd inflicted in the final months of their marriage, hoping to create an amicable relationship for Jack. So yes, she would be sad, for a little while. And there was his team, they were loyal, and they cared about him, probably loved him, but they would get a new chief, and the work would necessitate that they move on quickly. So aside from a mother and a brother he hardly ever saw, there was nobody really to miss him but his son, and he knew he had no one to blame for that but himself.

But with that realization he started to look at the same occurrences in New York with a different eye. He wasn't the only one that had suffered. It had been a hard few days for everyone, and with that thought he had zeroed in on Emily. He had been of course selfishly and unapologetically relieved that she hadn't been the one who was hurt when she and Detective Cooper were pursuing the suspect, but he hadn't before given much thought to how _she'd_ felt about what had happened. He'd asked her perfunctorily if she was okay, she said yes, and that was it. And then later that night she was the one who had stuck by his side the whole time at the hospital. Just because she was worried about him. And as he'd thought back to the last days of his marriage, he remembered that she'd been there for him then too. So once the sun had come up, he'd finally given up any pretext of resting and had taken a shower. The water stinging his cuts, but soothing his now stiffening muscles. It was a car bomb, and he felt like hell. He'd packed his bag, taken a couple Motrin the doctor had given him, and as soon as he felt it was late enough, had gone to knock on Emily's door. He might have been a bit out of touch with his team lately but as long as you were still breathing, it was never too late to change things.

And as he noted with admiration Emily's completely selfless assessment of this horrific trip, he knew that he had made the right decision in starting with her. Maybe he could do something in acknowledgement; they had a few hours before they were heading back.

"Prentiss, uh, would you like to get some coffee before you go to the hospital?"

Emily was slightly . . . shocked. She couldn't remember Hotch ever having asked her, or anyone really, to join him for coffee unless they were in the midst of a nineteen hour day and it was solely a practical matter of providing fuel for their bodies. Not that he was rude, he'd certainly get coffee for you if he was going, he just generally wasn't looking for any company while he did it. But just because it was new didn't mean it was bad. He was here at seven am, asking how she was, with no regard for his physical injuries. And she could see from the pinch in his brow and the ginger way that he was moving, that he was clearly in pain. But it appeared he had been a bit thrown by what had happened yesterday, and if wanted to turn over a new leaf, she'd be happy to oblige.

She looked momentarily surprised, and Hotch felt a little twinge that his offer to go for coffee would be an occasion worthy of that reaction.

But then she graced him with a big smile, which made him involuntarily crinkle his own eyes in return. She quickly grabbed her suit jacket off the bed and he stepped back in the hall as she pulled the door shut behind her.

"Thank you sir, coffee would be nice."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: And we're off and running! If you'll recall from The Hours, everything begins with coffee! _

_Actually this is the way things are going to go: next up is Angel Maker, I wrote 2 chapters for that, then Minimal Loss, only 1, I think it's pretty decent, but I feel like I should write another one too. We'll see if I get another idea. Now basically all the other eps will be spread out, but because these two are the big bonding eps, plus Hotch still has his hearing issues, they needed to come up right away. Once those are out of the way we'll be moving through the summer with about a dozen friendship building chapters. Kind of like the early days of the Hours, building their life together. Same type of thing but just a different stage of their relationship. Still for the most part though, those same types of conversational pieces where they're learning things about each other. I keep getting new ideas for them so we might go beyond a dozen :) I seriously wrote six of them since Sunday! Also, we'll cover a couple more canon episodes. _

_One thing to keep in mind through the summer months, they're JUST friends. Neither of them has any romantic interest in the other. Their relationship does become very loving and affectionate by August, best friends by September, but neither of them has any stronger feelings until they start moving further into the fall. And even then they're both pretty oblivious to the fact that their relationship is changing until it hits them over the head. I couldn't have it happen too soon because once they're aware of their feelings I had to keep thinking of good reasons why neither of them says anything. And they're pretty much head over heels by then so that was rough enough just covering two months! I couldn't go any more than that without them requiring some sort of intensive therapy. Hopefully it will be apparent from the writing but I'll also give you a heads up when things start to shift in September. Then you can watch for the little things. But for the time being think of them kind of like a completely hetero Will & Grace :) Affectionate but totally platonic. _

_Next: __**"Walking Wounded"**_


	47. Walking Wounded

**Author's Note:** Why am I posting rather than watching the rerun of 52 Pick Up? Because that episode, though the current standard for H/P subtext, is already a permanent addition to my digital collection :)

Besides I'm doing important stuff here, posting for the third highest ranking episode for H/P goodness (behind Minimal Loss of course). This is a missing scene to the one where Emily touches Hotch for the first time on camera! Seriously, I think that was the first time either one touched the other. Though I will be happy to be corrected.

At this point you should probably start taking note of the date stamps on these. For instance, as you can clearly see below, this is early June :) I say about a week after New York. As I get further along and build up more chapters in the stockpile I may start listing Week 1, Week 2, whatever, but for now it will just be a general "early/mid/late" whatever month, to help note the progression of their relationship.

* * *

_Episode – The Angel Maker_

_Early June_

**Walking Wounded**

_'Hotch'_

_'Hotch'_

_'Are you okay?'_

Hotch knew that Rossi was saying his name, asking if he was okay, but he only knew that because he could read his lips.

He couldn't _hear_ a God damn thing he was saying. That gunshot had rendered him completely deaf.

Well, he could hear a massive, truly AGONIZING, cacophony of sound in his ears, but he knew that was all in his head. He really wished it would stop soon because his eyes were starting to tear up.

Jesus Christ that hurt!

And it just kept reverberating. He put his hands over his ears . . . why won't it **stop**?

As Hotch clamped his hands to his head, Rossi looked down worriedly. Hotch wouldn't tell him what the doctor had said, but clearly there was still a major problem with his hearing. Shit. There was no way that this could be normal. He should probably go to the hospital.

Oh Christ . . . a horrible thought came to him . . . maybe something had ruptured.

Dave started looking around frantically. He needed . . . there she was . . . over with the sheriff. Cutting around the patrol car Dave hurried over to them.

"Prentiss."

As she turned her head, an look of panic splashed on Emily's face when she saw Dave hurrying towards her. She quickly excused herself from the sheriff and met him half way.

"How is he?"

Dave shook his head, "not good. And I don't know what's wrong with him." He gave her a pointed look, "I think _you_ should convince him to go to the hospital."

Surprised, Emily blinked as she tipped her head, "me?"

What was he thinking?

With a nod, Dave grabbed her arm and started guiding her back to where he'd left Hotch.

"He listens to you. Sometimes he listens to me too, but he's already avoided all of my questions about his prognosis so I don't think I'm going to have any more luck with him now. But you might. If you can take him to the hospital then Morgan and I will handle things here."

Emily had stopped listening to Dave as soon as she got a glimpse of Hotch hanging out of the passenger seat of one of the SUVS.

God . . . the poor thing. He looked awful.

Some part of her realized that Dave had finished talking and she nodded, presuming that was the appropriate response to whatever he'd just said. Then she mumbled an "okay" as she hurried over to the Suburban.

Dave watched Emily run over, crouching down in front of Hotch and patting his knee. In return, Hotch nodded slightly even though he still had his hands to his ears.

And with that movement, Dave knew for sure that if anyone was getting through to Hotch tonight, it would be Emily.

Now knowing that his old friend was in good hands, Dave turned around to go finish things up with the sheriff.

Emily could tell Hotch was in terrible pain. So much pain in fact that his eyes were watering. And she could understand why Dave thought he should go to the hospital. But given that this was the second day in a row that something like this had happened, Emily had a feeling that Hotch already knew what was wrong. And he hadn't sought any medical treatment yesterday.

Though . . . this episode was clearly much worse than what had happened at the cemetery.

Eh . . . she worked her jaw nervously . . . maybe he should go to the hospital. Better safe than sorry.

Decision made, she motioned for him to get into the car. Once he'd pulled his legs inside, she shut the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn't suffer any further pain or damage.

As it was, he still had both hands up to his ears so Emily was pretty sure that whatever the noise in his head was, it was much worse than the slamming of a car door.

Emily quickly crossed around to the driver's side door, not realizing until she got into the seat that she didn't have any keys. Turning to Hotch still doubled over, she winced in sympathy as she reached over and patted his arm, pointing to the ignition when he looked up. Hotch pulled the keys out of his pocket, handed them to her and turned away again.

It was clear to her that for a completely undignified situation, he was trying to keep as much of his dignity as possible.

After she started the ignition and pulled out, Emily headed straight to the highway, turning in the direction where she'd seen a sign earlier for the local hospital.

But as they started down the interstate, she noticed Hotch was tensing up. And in her peripheral vision she could see him pulling his hands down before he turned to look at her.

She ignored him for a second, and then another. Finally she put on her directional and pulled over to the breakdown lane, where she hit her hazards. She tapped her hand on the steering wheel as she stared at the flashing lights out the window. Then, taking a breath, she reached up to turn on the overhead light before at last looking over at him. His brow was pinched.

He was nervous.

Hotch was never nervous. Or if he was he sure as hell usually hid it better than this.

She eyed him for a moment before leaning forward and opening the glove compartment where she pulled out a user's manual and a pen. Then she scribbled a note and held it up for him.

'_Do you want to go to the hospital?'_

Hotch vehemently shook his head. Emily squinted at him before she wrote her next question.

'_Why aren't you talking?'_

He stared at that one for a second before he looked up to her, and she could see the naked fear in his eyes.

And that's when she knew . . . he was terrified of opening his mouth and not being able to hear his own voice.

Her lips pursed in sympathy, she couldn't even imagine how horrible that would be. She nodded and gave him a little smile of understanding. Then she took another deep breath before writing the most important question.

'_Do you know what's wrong?'_

Hotch looked at it and then nodded slowly as he drew his eyes back up to hers. Just as she'd suspected. He already knew what was wrong, and he didn't want to go to the hospital. Which meant that the hospital couldn't do anything for him.

She looked at him for a second and then she nodded, mouthing the words, "okay, no hospital."

He looked so relieved that Emily was almost angry. Hotch was one of the strongest and most capable people that she knew. He shouldn't be at the whim of somebody else's sympathy to allow him to do what he wanted to do.

But given how apparent it was that he was in excruciating pain, they both knew full well that she would have been fully in her rights to take him directly to the hospital regardless of what he wanted. She could just say that he was injured and not thinking clearly. And she wouldn't hesitate to do that under any other circumstances, but for some reason, in this instance, she just couldn't do that to him.

Maybe because she knew that he was thinking clearly, and clear thinking Hotch did not believe medical attention was warranted. But she hated so much that he was grateful simply because she was respecting his wishes.

With a sigh,she flipped off the hazards and the overhead before pulling a U-Turn and heading back in the opposite direction towards the motel.

Hotch slumped back against the door in relief . . . thank God she didn't force the issue.

If their positions were reversed he absolutely would have made her get checked out. And she could have done it to him too, rank or no rank. But he already knew what was wrong, and if he went to the hospital they were going to talk to him like he was a moron. Yeah, he already knew he was a moron. He didn't need anyone in a white coat repeating it for him. Miming it out for him. Writing it down for him.

None of that was necessary. It was all entirely UNnecessary.

Hopefully his hearing would come back soon. He thought it was getting a little better. He was pretty sure he could hear the sound of the motor, he rolled down the window slightly. Yeah, he could definitely hear the whistling of the wind.

Thank God!

He wasn't going to be permanently deaf. But given the look Emily just him, he was pretty sure that he wasn't going to be able to get out of telling her what was wrong.

But again . . . rank or no rank . . . he owed her for this. Dave would have taken him directly to the hospital, but she'd respected his wishes. He'd like to think he could have done the same for her, but he knew he was too overprotective for that to ever have happened.

No, if any of them were hurt, no matter how much they protested, there was no way he wasn't going to have them immediately checked out.

They pulled up into the motel parking lot, Emily jumping out and hurrying over to his side of the SUV before he'd barely gotten his door open. His equilibrium was still a little off so he let her help him down. He probably could have done it on his own, without falling on his face, but she needed to feel like she was helping, so he let her help.

They passed silently through the motel lobby. It was one of those chain ones, and with the exception of the overnight clerk at the desk, and housekeeping vacuuming the rugs, the lobby was deserted. They took the elevator to the second floor, he wasn't up for the stairs, and he was already digging his key out of his pocket as they walked down the hall. When they got to his door he turned to say thank you. The ringing was almost gone and he was sure now that he could hear himself if he spoke. But as he looked up at her face, she shook her head.

Okay . . . he swallowed . . . apparently they were doing this tonight.

He really was going to tell her, but he figured in the morning. But it seemed she had other ideas. He looked at her for a second before nodding and turning to unlock the door. Then he flipped on the overhead lights, wincing at the sudden pain as he brought his hand up to shield his eyes.

Shit.

It seemed his little auditory incident had now triggered a migraine. Great. Emily quickly slipped past him, going over to turn on one of the bedside lamps before coming back to hit the overhead switch. He slowly took his hand down from his eyes, blinking once as he turned to her before saying the first word he had in an hour.

"Thanks."

His voice was a little scratchy but he could hear it. Thank you God he could hear it!

Tipping her head slightly Emily gave him a soft smile, "you're welcome."

Thank God! His hearing had come back.

She'd known in the car that he was starting to get noises back. But she knew then that it wasn't complete. He'd had the window down just an inch, and it was screaming in the cab, but it wasn't bothering him, he just looked relieved. If he'd had his full hearing back then that noise would have been painfully loud. As it was it didn't bother her at all because it meant he was getting better.

That she'd made the right choice by not taking him to the hospital.

Of course she was pretty sure Dave was going to be pissed at her, but she'd deal with that later. For now, her focus was on Hotch, and getting all of this out in the open. There was clearly something seriously wrong and she just prayed it was only temporary.

Emily wanted to make it abundantly clear to him that she wasn't going anywhere until this was done. So she threw her vest on the chair and kicked off her boots before climbing onto the bed and taking out her ponytail so she could lean back against the headboard.

Hotch just looked at her for a second before swallowing hard, "okay."

He took off his own vest and shoes before he got up on the covers next to her and loosened his tie. And then they sat in silence for almost a minute. Emily finally broke it as she cleared her throat.

"Is it serious?"

He nodded, "yes."

"Is there a possibility that you could lose your hearing completely?"

Hotch was silent for a moment before he responded with a hoarse, "yes."

Emily's eyes stung as she let that sink in. Then she asked quietly, "is that inevitable?"

Shaking his head Hotch sighed, "no . . . it's possible . . . but not inevitable. The doctor told me that the damage was quite serious but that it would most likely heal on its own. But . . ." he swallowed, "I'm supposed to avoid loud noises, and, um . . ."

She flicked her eyes angrily over at him, "and you're not supposed to be flying."

Being careful not to look at her, he worked his jaw as he nodded slowly.

She clenched her fingers into her thigh . . . God, she was so mad at him! He could have lost his hearing all because he was just so damn STUBBORN. He HAD to go out on the case! He HAD to go back out into the field!

Idiot!

Hotch could feel the waves of anger emanating off of her, but she didn't say anything. Not right away. But he braced himself, because he knew it was coming.

When she finally got her temper under control, Emily lit into him. She was furious but she was making every effort to not inflict any further damage on his battered eardrums. So rather than yelling at him like she wanted to, her voice was a harsh whisper.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you? What would you do to one of us if we pulled a stunt like this?"

His eyes burned as he thought about that question . . . what if one of them had pulled a stunt like this?

He turned to her, "I would have been furious. And I probably would have benched you because not only did you put your own health at risk, but you compromised the safety of the team. Because clearly you wouldn't have been in any condition to be out in the field watching someone's back. Not if the sound of a gunshot, or even a car backfiring, was going to render you completely helpless."

Helpless. He had been _completely_ helpless.

That was his greatest fear, that something would go wrong and he'd be helpless to save them.

Well, what if _he_ was the something that went wrong? And _he_ was the one that put them in danger? What if that had been a different scenario tonight? And Dave, or Emily, or Morgan, had to put themselves at risk to pull him out of harm's way. All because he was curled up in a ball on the ground trying not to scream in agony.

He could easily have gotten one of them killed tonight.

Hotch dragged his eyes back up to hers, working his jaw for a moment before his voice cracked, "I'm sorry."

Emily blinked and all of the anger went out of her.

How could she be angry with him when he was baring his soul to her? But, even if she wasn't angry, she was still upset with him. God was she upset.

Leaning back against the headboard, she sighed, "you know Hotch, I want to tell you it's okay. I really do. But . . . it's not." She felt him tense up, pulling away from her. That wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to cause him more pain.

So . . . trying to soften the blow of her words . . . she leaned over and put her head on his shoulder.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," she paused, "but I need you to listen to me for a second. I need you to see this how I see this, okay?"

As Emily felt some of the tension go out of his body, she reached over to pick up his hand. She wanted him to know she wasn't mad at him.

"Hotch, you didn't just put your health on the line, you put your _life_ on the line. You went into the field with a serious physical impediment. You were completely incapable of defending yourself tonight. And yesterday too! What if you were chasing an UNSUB and some loud noise had gone off? He, or in this instance, _she_, could have KILLED you. And you couldn't have done a damn thing to stop it."

Hotch wasn't expecting that, the flipside of what he'd just said to himself. What it would have meant for his own well being. He felt a little more of the tension leak out of his body. He'd thought she hated him, that she was angry at him for putting them in danger. But no, of course she was just worried about him.

Somehow that just made him feel worse.

Emily sighed, "and you dying, that's just worst case scenario. But what if you lost your hearing completely tonight? You wouldn't have been able to work anymore. Not here, not doing _this_ job. And what would you do with yourself then? If this was taken away from you? And you would be dependent on other people to help you do things. Can you imagine that Hotch? Being DEPENDENT on people! Living your life where someone has to tell you that the phone's ringing or that there's someone at the door."

She paused before going for the jugular, because she knew if nothing else, that would be what got through to him.

"You'd never hear your son's voice again."

Hotch flinched and she squeezed his hand, "for the rest of your life you would just be stuck in your own head. And if your mind has as many dark corridors as mine does, then I can only imagine what kind of a hell that would be."

Hotch stared down at their intertwined fingers . . . how did he always end up holding her hand?

Then he tipped his head over to rest against hers as he whispered, "I didn't think of that. I didn't think of any of that."

She nodded, brushing her cheek against his shoulder, "I know you didn't. But you have to. You have to be more careful. You're not indestructible," her voice cracked, "you got blown up."

Her eyes started to burn and she blinked the tears away as she cleared her throat, "and I know that you want to pretend like that didn't happen, that everything's fine, and like it was before, but . . . it's not. Things are so far from fine I can't even tell you."

Hotch closed his eyes at that revelation . . . he'd wanted to believe so badly that things were okay. That there hadn't been any fallout from New York. But obviously he'd just been fooling himself.

Fool himself and nobody else.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Emily glanced over to see him wincing slightly. Alarmed, she sat up and asked worriedly, "is it your ears again?"

He shook his head, "no, it triggered a migraine. That was the light sensitivity earlier. It's not too bad though." He pushed himself off the bed, "I have some Tylenol in my bag."

Emily watched Hotch go into the bathroom and then looked down as her phone began buzzing on her hip.

Rossi. Shit.

"Hey Dave."

"What did the doctor say?"

She decided to just plunge right in and get it all out in one big run on sentence.

"We didn't go to the hospital. We came right back to the motel. But he's better now. His hearing's back, he just has a headache."

Then she braced herself for his response.

Dave was silent for a moment. He was pissed, and he was about to yell at her, but then he remembered her crouched down in front of Hotch gently patting his knee. And his anger faded.

Whatever decision she had made, she had done it because it was what she thought was best for him. And it sounded like she was still with him now, so she was continuing to keep an eye on him.

Dropping his head down to his chest, he sighed, "okay." He paused for a second, "we'll be done here soon. I'll see you in the morning." And before she could say another word, he hung up.

Surprised, Emily pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it in bewilderment.

"Was that Dave?"

Snapping her phone shut, Emily looked up at Hotch staring at her from the bathroom doorway. She slipped her cell back onto her hip, "uh yeah."

Hotch came over and sat down next to her again, "was he upset that you didn't take me to the hospital?" At her look he rolled his eyes, "come on Prentiss, of course I knew that's what he told you to do."

Shaking her head she pulled her knees up to her chest, "no, he wasn't angry, he just said okay. Then he told me they were almost done there and he'd see me in the morning . . . it was odd. I thought for sure he'd be mad."

Hotch thought it was a little odd too. It was hard to get him going but once you crossed him, Dave had a good temper on him. Hotch gave an internal snort, that should be the motto of the team.

Emily looked at him.

"I hope you don't mind but I'm not leaving yet," then she quirked her lip up, "and if you do mind, well, I'm sorry about that, but I'm still not leaving yet. I didn't take you to the hospital because I wanted you to be able to make your decisions, but now I just want to make sure that you're all right. So I'd like to stay a little longer and make sure you don't have any more problems. Okay?"

She knew he could technically order her out, but she really hoped that he wouldn't.

Hotch stared at her for a second, and then his eyes crinkled slightly, "okay, but I'm tired so you're going to have to keep yourself amused."

Huffing, she turned to grab the remote, "not a problem."

As Hotch slid down the bed, closing his eyes and turning onto his side away from her, Emily flipped on the television. After turning it down to the lowest volume setting, she looked over to make sure it wasn't bothering him.

It looked like he was already out. Though as she thought about it, that was understandable. Pain was exhausting.

Emily pursed her lips . . . poor thing.

She looked back to the television, continuing to flip until she found the Discovery channel. Ever since that night when Hotch had come over with the pizza, that was her default station when she was stressed out. And this was definitely a most distressing day. But there were no nature shows on, it was that fisherman show.

But that was okay . . . her eyes crinkled as she settled back on her pillow . . . she LOVED Mike Rowe. So she'd be happy to listen to his voice all night long. Not that she was planning on staying that long . . . she glanced down to Hotch sleeping soundly next to her. Just a of couple hours.

Just really to make sure he didn't wake up screaming.

Because you know, that would suck. Especially if he was alone. All the times he'd fallen asleep on the jet, she'd never really watched him sleep before. It saddened her to see that the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth were still there.

Didn't the poor guy ever get any peace?

She patted his shoulder before turning back to the television and slipping a little further down her pillow to get comfortable.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Hotch woke up to the scent of lavender in his nose . . . and soft skin under his fingers.

What the hell?

He blearily opened his eyes . . . they crinkled slightly when he realized Emily had passed out next to him.

And apparently they'd gotten tangled up in their sleep.

She was pressed back against him with his arm was over her hip. That was not unexpected though given that he'd slept next to a woman for twenty years. And they'd always woken up spooned together like this.

Well, except at the end of course. At the end they were far apart more nights than not. But basically his body was conditioned to do it. And Emily, she was affectionate when she was awake, there's no way she wasn't a cuddler when she was sleeping. So he really wasn't disturbed by this development. He just needed to get her out of his bed. Because as a rule, it wasn't a good idea to be sleeping with his agents.

So to speak.

Well, there was that time with Morgan . . . but they didn't speak of that. Ever.

As he went to move his hand to tap her on the shoulder he realized his other hand was trapped underneath her. And apparently it had slipped under sweater. That was the soft skin he felt.

Oops.

Fortunately it hadn't gone too high or too low. He wasn't touching anything he hadn't touched that night at the bar. Less even. He tried to slip his hand out without waking her, but that plan was shot to hell when he heard her murmur.

"Why is your hand under my shirt?"

Huffing slightly, he slipped it out as he responded in the same half asleep tone, "I think the better question is why are you sleeping in my bed Goldilocks?"

She was silent for a minute and he was sure she'd fallen back asleep. Then she mumbled, "personally I think the better question is what is that pressing into my back? All is I can say is it better be your gun sir."

Hotch gave a drowsy snort as he reached down and pulled his sig from his holster before reaching behind him to place it on the bedside table. Then he realized what he was doing.

Taking off his gun so she could sleep more comfortably.

God he was exhausted. He blinked, trying to stay focused before he tapped her on the back.

"Prentiss you have to go back to your own bed."

And as he looked down at her, with her eyes still closed, he saw her pout, and then she honest to God whined, "but I'm _soo_ tired."

That was the first time he'd heard the whining, it was amusing, but it was the second time he'd seen that pout. And just like that time in the bar, his eyes crinkled involuntarily looking at it.

Blinking repeatedly . . . his contacts were still in and they were dry . . . he looked up and over her shoulder to the alarm clock. It was after two.

It was kind of mean to make her get up in the middle of the night.

He looked back down at her, sighing before he whispered back, "fine, you can stay. But don't tell anybody."

Still with her eyes closed, she gave a sleepy, "'kay."

Hotch rolled over so he wasn't wrapped around her anymore. But just as he was dozing off again, he felt her curl up behind him and put her head on his shoulder and her arm around his chest. He could tell from the steadiness of her breathing that she was sound asleep.

With his eyes still shut, his mouth quirked up slightly as he patted her hand, mumbling to himself.

"That better be your gun Prentiss."

* * *

_A/N 2: I wasn't planning on having them 'sleep together' quite so soon, but it worked for the scene so here we are. I'm actually going to have to revamp a couple of other chapters to accommodate this development but it shouldn't be too much hassle. This also sets the tone for them not succumbing to any conventional sexual tension. They immediately draw attention to the elephant in the room and chase it away. I prefer writing it that way. I can get more humor out of their relationship than I would if I went with the awkward pauses. Which can be fun too, but you might have noticed I always have to be different and take the path of most resistance :)_

_Hotch definitely had a major change of heart the next morning when he decided to drive back and take some time to get well. So clearly something/someone had shifted his thinking. And it wasn't Dave, because he looked surprised. But Emily just nodded knowingly, and she got the brownies, so I say it was her._

_And if you're curious about the time Hotch 'slept' with Morgan, have no fear, that story will be told at a later date. I wrote it and it still tickles me :)_

_I could really go for a brownie right about now but alas, I do not have any. Nor do I have the fixins to make them. Damn. But if you could send a brownie along with a review that'd be great! Thanks!_

_Next:__** "Nuh, Uh, Mom Said!"**_


	48. Nuh, Uh, Mom Said!

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for the cyber pastries, and one live recipe!

If anyone is interested, and not already aware, I also posted on "Life & Such" today. I know, it's classy pimping your own stuff :)

Another Angel Maker chapter. Post ep.

*******************************************

_Episode – The Angel Maker_

_Early June_

**Nuh, Uh, Mom Said!**

Emily folded up her jacket and tried to stretch herself out in the corner of the jet. They'd taken off about twenty minutes ago and she was trying to avoid the bickering going on down the other end of the cabin. Her phone started to vibrate on her hip, and as she checked the caller ID she smiled.

"Hey, how's the drive?"

Rolling his eyes, Hotch scanned the truck stop.

"Long. Traffic was a nightmare so I pulled off for a break. I'm in a rest area near the state line."

Emily pursed her lips, "if traffic's bad then I'm glad you stopped, you're supposed to be relaxing. And take all the time you need Hotch," her lip curled, "we'll still be here when you get back."

Hotch huffed, "I hope so. That's actually why I was calling. I just wanted to thank you for all of your help with my uh, personal difficulties with the case."

"No thanks necessary, we're family, we look after each other."

Given that she wasn't there to see it, Hotch felt free to give her a little smile.

"Thanks," he heard a commotion in the background, "what's that noise?"

Emily sighed, "the boys, they're fighting over the last brownie. It's been going on since we took off. Everybody got one, we gave one each to the pilots and there's one leftover."

"Go get it."

She scrunched up her face, "excuse me."

"Go get it right now Prentiss." Hotch shook his head, "do you not remember the slice incident at Genarros?"

"Oh God!" How could she have forgotten?! The manager had even called the police!

"Exactly, now do you want to go through that again? It was like our own special episode of 'Cops Goes To The FBI.' I couldn't partner the two of them up for a week. Go now Prentiss! Go!"

Emily hurriedly stood up, "I'm going! I'm going! Hold on." She pulled the phone away from her ear as she scurried over and snatched the brownie off the plate between Reid and Morgan.

"Mine."

"What the . . . ?"

"Girl you better put that back!"

Emily shook her head, "no, Hotch said it's mine."

Reid sputtered a "Hotch said?" as both of the guys looked up at her incredulously, and then Derek pointed out the obvious.

"Mom's not even here!"

Emily could hear noise coming from her phone and she pulled it back up to her ear.

"Did Derek just call me MOM?!"

Emily smiled sweetly at Derek, "no sir, it must be that ringing in your ears because I am quite sure that Agent Morgan did _not_ just call you 'mom.'"

Derek's eyes bugged out of his head and he started gesturing violently at Emily's ear as he mouthed the words.

"Is he on the phone?!"

Emily nodded happily, "yes Derek, Hotch is on the phone." She pulled it away from her ear, "did you want to talk to him?"

Derek shot Emily a Hotch worthy glare while she tried not to laugh as she spoke back into the receiver.

"Sorry sir, it looks like Agent Morgan needs to use the facilities."

Hotch's mouth was twitching on the other end of the line, "ringing in my ears, huh? Well you tell Derek that he owes you one. And then you tell me if he doesn't pay up."

The other occupants of the plane, with the exception of Derek, were laughing openly at his expense. Still smiling, Emily headed back to her seat with her unexpected treat.

"Understood sir."

She took a bite of her brownie and started to cough.

Hotch furrowed his brow in concern, "you okay?"

"Yeah, brownie's been sitting out for like two hours. It's a little dry."

"Sometimes you have to take one for the team Prentiss." Hotch's eyes crinkled as he could hear her gagging, "do you have a drink?"

Emily unscrewed her bottle of water, "I'm good. I promise I won't choke to death on the way back."

"Glad to hear it Prentiss," Hotch lowered his voice, "see you in a couple days."

She smiled softly in return, "drive safe. I'll see you at home."

Emily clicked her phone shut, and with a happy sigh she turned to the window and watched the clouds go by.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Not sure if they can actually use their phones in flight but given one of the main reasons we can't on commercial airliners is the concern about using them to detonate explosives, I figure for them it would be okay. Now as to whether they'd actually work at 40k feet, I tend to think __not__ unless they were satellite phones. But for purposes of this conversation, let's push logic far, far to the side and just yes, yes they do work._

_Funny, when I was re-reading this tonight (I wrote it awhile ago) the "go Prentiss! Go now!" line reminded me of Silence of the Lambs. I feel like Hannibal said something similar to Clarice at some point. I can see PB as Clarice, I __cannot_ _see TG as Hannibal, though he would make a fine Crawford :) Hmm, maybe I should write a Lambs crossover . . ._

_I was going to put up Minimal Loss tomorrow but yesterday I wrote a bridge chapter to take them from Angel Maker to that incident. One coffee outing when Hotch first gets back from Ohio. I'm just getting used to breaking free of the weekly episode box I was working in and remembering now I can add in 'set up' chapters before I actually hit episodes. Ah freedom! It smells so sweet!_

_Next: __**"Made in Taiwan . . . & Lancaster County"**_


	49. Made in Taiwan & Lancaster County

**Author's Note:** Bridge chapter connecting Angel Maker and Minimal Loss.

And general announcement, you may have already read this, if so ignore, if not, here you go: 

Kavi and I have set up a TV show episode title challenge. We picked six shows, six episode titles from the shows and we're using them as prompts. I'm using this challenge as an opportunity to explore some stuff that I can't do in my regular 'verse. So fair warning, some of these stories I'll be writing will be darker than my usual. For instance, the one I just posted, it's called "The Tipping Point." And it is _very_ dark. I assure you they will not all be like this, so don't let it scare you off :)

The goal for Kavi and I is to write something for all the prompts. We'll probably be putting new ones up every couple weeks. But please, if you write, check out the prompts and see if any of them spark an idea. The fun in this is to see the different ideas that people can come up with using the same original episode title.

This is the forum, check out the prompts, check out the guidelines and please come play with us. And if you want to just read them, we also have a community where we're compiling all of them :)

forum/TV_Prompt_Challenge/59537/

community/TV_Prompt_Challenge/65941/

* * *

_Mid June_

**Made in Taiwan . . . & Lancaster County**

"How are your ears?"

At Emily's (expected) inquiry, Hotch finished swallowing his sip of coffee before he put his cup down on the table.

"Getting better. I went for a follow-up yesterday and I told the doctor what happened in Ohio, and after berating me for my 'mind boggling idiocy,' she checked them out and determined that there wasn't any additional damage. In fact they're actually healing a bit faster than she expected."

That had been a load off his mind. He'd been sure that he'd somehow set his recovery back.

He'd gotten lucky.

"That's good," Emily responded with a little smile and a nod, "that's really good."

The drive back from Ohio had taken Hotch a few days. And then he'd taken two more days off after he arrived home just to spend some time with his son. Today was his first day back in the office, and he'd definitely seemed in better spirits than the last time she'd seen him. But then late that afternoon he'd asked her out to get a coffee.

That made her happy.

They'd gone a few times after New York, but she wasn't sure if that was an aberration. But it appeared now that he definitely wanted to continue this new aspect of their relationship.

She did too.

They'd always had an uncommon bond . . . one that had carried them through many crappy days that year . . . but it was nice just talking to him about regular stuff. And she was really relieved that the doctor had said that he was healing well. She'd been worrying about the possibility, however slim, that the damage might be permanent. So she knew part of his good mood was the good news about his health, but she knew a large part of it was also that he'd had the time with his son.

Jack.

It was too bad he couldn't see him more often. She knew visitation had finally been ironed out and Hotch had him from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. Well, provided he was in town. But clearly that time wasn't enough. Though she figured nothing short of him actually living with Hotch again was ever really going to be enough. Realizing then that Hotch had begun tapping his fingers against the table, her attention shifted back to see what he was about to say.

"I'm still catching up my desk, but I'm thinking about sending you and Reid to Colorado next week."

Emily tipped her head.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Family Services has a report of possible child abuse at a compound out there." Rolling his neck he sat back in the booth, "we'll set up some time tomorrow to do a more formal review of the request." Then he gestured with his chin.

"You want any more coffee?"

Emily peered down into her cup.

"Yes please," then she looked up hopefully, "hey, do you want to split a muffin with me?"

Feeling his mouth quiver, Hotch waved the waitress over, as he flicked his eyes back to Emily.

"By 'split' do you mean watch you eat a whole muffin, and I pay for half of it?"

Emily looked back at Hotch for a second before she burst out laughing.

"NO! I meant that you would actually get to eat the same portion of the muffin that I did. The muffins here are really big and I don't think I could eat a whole one right now."

After a brief squint across the table, Hotch pursed his lips.

"Sure."

And that's when the waitress walked up.

"Hi, can we get a refill please and a uh," he looked to Emily, "blueberry?" she nodded, and he looked back to the waitress, "blueberry muffin? Thanks."

The woman nodded, and muttered, "sure thing, hon" before she started back to the counter. Hotch waited until she'd walked away, and then he began digging into his outside jacket pocket.

A second later he pulled out a small wrapped package . . . he pushed it across the table.

"I bought you a present."

Emily's face lit up as she began fingering the paper.

"You bought me a present!" Then she looked up expectantly, "what is it?"

Hotch rolled his eyes in amusement.

"You have it right in front of you. If you open it up then you can find out what it is without me telling you."

She grinned before looking down to slip the paper off the gift. Then she stopped.

"Oh," she bit her lip as her eyes came back up to meet his, "it's so pretty."

Hotch flashed a dimple.

"Amish country. The guy said he carved it himself, and I didn't see any Made in Taiwan stickers on the back, so I think he was legit." Then he tipped his head, "I'm sure you probably have a jewelry box, but I figure maybe you could keep your change in it or something."

It was just a relief that she liked it. He'd wanted to get her something as a thank you for everything that she'd said to him out in Ohio.

She'd really given him a lot to think about.

But it wasn't until he was driving through Pennsylvania that he'd come across the roadside stand selling produce, wooden carvings and furniture. And after he'd bought an end table for the new apartment he still hadn't found, he'd seen the jewelry boxes. His eyes crinkled as he watched her across the table.

As soon as he saw the inlays he'd thought of her.

Emily traced her finger over the carved roses as she responded quietly.

"It's beautiful. I'll definitely use it." Then she looked up and smiled. "Tthank you. I actually bought you a present too but it's not quite so pretty."

After she pulled out a small bag out of her own pocket, she slid it across the table with a droll.

"And I'm pretty sure these _are_ made in Taiwan."

For a moment, Hotch just stared down at the bag.

Ear plugs. She bought him ear plugs. That was so sweet. His lips curved in a soft smile.

"Thanks."

Feeling a faint blush touch her cheeks, Emily shrugged.

"Well you know, I figured can't hurt, right?"

Hotch slipped the bag into his pocket with a firm nod, and a wink.

"Can't hurt at all."

* * *

_A/N 2: Funny, I was writing this directly after I posted Angel Maker, and I was in the midst of that brownie craving and I started to have Emily order a brownie is THIS chapter too! Then I caught myself and changed it to a muffin. Otherwise I would have had to change the title of this story to "Falling in Love with a Brownie," and that sounds like a whole fetish world I really don't want to get into._

_I thought it needed a little bridge because Hotch's ears seemed much better in Colorado, so a bit of time had passed. Also, there's a fair amount of angst in the next one so the passing mention here that Hotch is the one that sent them out, because obviously he would have been, kind of ramped that up a bit. Not to mention I felt like a real jerk beating the crap out of Emily after she's all sweet and cute in this one. But that was rather the point, to make it even worse when it happens. Life's rough._

_Finally, tomorrow I will be posting Minimal Loss._

Next: **"The Path to Salvation"**


	50. The Path to Salvation

**Author's Note:** Minimal Loss. Dunt, dunt da!

As a side note, can you believe we're already on Chapter 50? And there are at least 70 left! People will be collecting social security by the time I'm done posting.

This is practically the holy grail of H/P so I'm pretty sure I don't need to do a recap for you, but if I do . . . _hint_ . . . COLORADO! And this was a hard one, really a lot of pressure trying to do it justice. So I went with internal dialogue from both of them in different scenes onscreen, and then I closed with a missing scene.

And the writing bug has hit me like crazy the past 24 hrs so I'm super behind on my little thank yous to everyone so I'll send out a blanket wave [hi!] to all of you lovely people who have been reviewing. I will try to get back to you soon'ish rather than later'ish. In between life, I wrote two chapters today and two new stories, and honestly I had to make myself stop writing so I wouldn't forget to post! Oy. It's fun, yet exhausting.

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_Episode – Minimal Loss _

_Mid-June_

**The Path to Salvation**

All Hotch could hear was breaking glass and Emily's tortured gasps as her body was broken against God knows what behind those cinderblock walls. He could feel his eyes begin to burn. He knew it was stupid and irrational but all he could think was, how could anyone want to hurt her? She was kind and smart and funny. She was a good person. As though that somehow provided an impenetrable shield against the cruelties one person could inflict on another. If this job had taught him anything it was how truly pathetic a notion like that was. And still the thought came to him, mocking him.

And here she's beating beaten, with no guarantee that Cyrus is going to stop before he kills her, and yet still she's telling them, telling him, that she can take it. Even at a moment like this, when she knew that he would move heaven and earth to come in and get her, her concern wasn't for herself, but for the others. Well screw the others. He wanted her back. He wanted Reid back. He'd paid enough to the Ferryman this year. He couldn't have anymore. He looked at Rossi and Morgan as they threw down their headsets. They couldn't listen to her suffer any longer. Well he had to, that was his sacred duty, he had failed to protect them, but he wouldn't forsake them. He'd bear witness to her suffering and pray that she would live through this and find a way to forgive him.

And he knew that if she didn't survive, that he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

////////////////////////////

Emily twisted on the thin mattress trying to find position to lie in that didn't kill her battered ribs. If only they hadn't tied her up. But it would be all right. Just a little bit longer. She knew Dave was negotiating and that meant Hotch was here. She knew this was a minimal loss situation but Hotch would get them out. He would find a way because she knew that any other outcome was simply unacceptable to him. Hotch held himself to impossible standards, and usually she worried about the pressure that put on him, but today, she knew that would be what saved their lives. They couldn't save everyone of course. She still needed to send them a message about the children, but she wasn't worried about herself or about Spencer.

Hotch would take care of them. He always did.

////////////////////////////

Hotch watched a short distance away as Reid disentangled from Emily's embrace and slowly walked off by himself. Nobody else from the team was left around them, Morgan and Rossi having been able to confirm that Prentiss and Reid were basically okay and in one piece, were now attempting to begin the business of cleaning up this catastrophe. Their second in as many months, though this, like the other, could have been much, much worse.

Stepping closer to Emily, Hotch took note of her injuries, the visible ones hurting him physically with an intensity that surprised even him. Neither of them said anything as they gazed intently into one another's eyes for almost a full minute. The bark of one of the search dogs pulled them from their reverie and they blinked, and with a slight tip of Hotch's head, turned as one to start walking towards the first aid station being set up on the other side of the compound. The area was awash with flashing red and blue lights, uniforms of varying colors and formalities everywhere. But they were alone.

He hadn't been able to protect her. Just like Kate. She could have died. Just like Kate. He stopped suddenly as a wave of some emotion he couldn't even describe hit him like a tidal wave. She could have died. Just like Kate. He wanted to reach out and confirm for himself that she was okay, that she was real and not broken irrevocably by what he had to allow her to endure in an effort to get everyone out safely.

But he wasn't the hugger, that was Emily. Besides, that would be an expression of personal affection for one another while they were on duty. And they didn't do that. But then suddenly there was a warm, soft body pressed against his front, and putting its arms around his neck.

Or maybe they did do that.

He tightened his arms around her back, trying to be mindful of her injuries, as he turned his face into her hair. Slowly inhaling the mingled scent of smoke, sweat, gun powder and Emily Prentiss. He smiled into her hair.

'Almost as good as Jack smelled when he was a baby.'

Emily had known Reid would blame himself for her injuries and with her hug she had wanted to try to affirm to him that _she_ didn't blame him, that it wasn't his fault that this had happened. She'd known by the sad smile he'd given her as he walked away that she wasn't successful. Then she looked over and saw Hotch step up, and for a moment, just a moment, all of his shields were down and she could see everything he tried to hide from them, from her. And then, with the bark of a German shepherd, it was all concealed again like a curtain was pulled.

But she'd seen it, and she would remember.

As the adrenaline started to wear off, her ribs began to ache and she gladly followed his lead to go seek medical attention. But then halfway across the compound, he had stopped, looking as though someone had slapped him, and she could feel her heart break just a little for this good, kind man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would castigate himself for her injuries with an intensity that Reid could never begin to match. Reid perceived his fault as simply not speaking up quickly enough, Hotch perceived his as an utter failure in his role as their leader, as their protector. This was another tangible, bloody reminder that no matter how hard he tried, and how much he gave of himself to this job, he could not keep his people safe.

Emily couldn't watch him suffer. There had been enough of that already. She launched herself at him. And as his arms encircled her and she buried her face into his neck, she ignored the slight protest in her side as he tightened his embrace. Screw the battered ribs, this was something she could fix for him. She could prove to him that he had kept her safe. That he hadn't failed.

By listening to her, by trusting her, he had saved her.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I pulled a Quantum Leap there, tried to make right what once went wrong. And it was wrong we didn't get the hug. He's in tears as she's getting beaten and he's not going to give her a hug when she comes out? Please! But hey, they did cut away from that scene just as Hotch stepped up, so there's nothing to say this didn't happen. _

_Now we'll be moving into the nitty gritty of their summer bonding. The next canon episode is Paradise but I have placed that in the rotation for late July. Right now it is mid-June so about nine or ten chapters to go before we get there. And next up, though it is not technically a post ep, it will be covering recent events that need to be covered._

Next: **"A Coat of White Primer"**


	51. A Coat of White Primer

**Author's Note:** Sort of a follow-up to both Minimal Loss and Mayhem. I want to address a few things that we didn't see addressed onscreen.

*******************************************

_Late June_

**A Coat of White Primer**

"You wanted to see me Hotch?"

Emily had come back late from her fitness evaluation to a sticky on her computer screen from him.

'_Find Me – H'_

With minimal searching she did find him, he had his files spread out in the conference room. Everyone else had gone home. She knew what this was about; he wanted to know if she was cleared for unrestricted duty. Given that JJ was already out of field commission Hotch had benched the team completely for the last two weeks. She'd been out on medical the first couple days anyway, but Emily knew he wanted to make sure that she had completely recovered physically before she went back out in the field.

What she didn't know was that Hotch was planning on keeping them off rotation longer if he had the slightest concern about her emotional recovery as well. He'd made a mistake with Elle, he'd taken her fitness evaluations at face value, and though Emily was made of much stronger stuff, she wasn't a machine. She would have a breaking point as well, and Hotch was going to make damn sure he never put her into a position to discover exactly what it would be. He raised an eyebrow.

"How did it go?"

"Cleared for takeoff," she quirked her lip up, "literally and figuratively."

He chewed the inside of his cheek as he pulled out the chair next to him and motioned for her to sit down. Emily was slightly confused, she thought he'd be pleased at that news, instead he looked worried. Why would he look worried that she was fit for duty? A light bulb blinked as she dropped down into the chair next to him.

"Hotch, I'm not Elle. I won't break, I promise."

Hotch blinked, how did she do that?

He gave her a slightly bemused look, "how do you do that?"

"I'm a senior profiler sir, aka mind reader extraordinaire," she smiled, before sobering, "seriously though, I know you worry but, I'm really okay." She narrowed her eyes, "if anything I should be worried about you."

Leaning back he looked at her quizzically, "me?"

Emily's features softened, "just last month, New York, you lost an agent and nearly your life in the same attack. You came back too soon," he started to protest and she shook her head, "you came back _too soon_ Hotch, and almost lost your hearing because of it," he nodded slightly as she continued, "and then you had to deal with us being taken captive. Reid for the second time since he's been with you, and we both know he barely recovered last time. And then me, well, I got the crap kicked out of me." She lowered her voice as she asked rhetorically.

"And you had to hear the whole thing didn't you?"

He wouldn't look at her. She could see his eyes were glistening and she knew he was remembering.

She murmured, "that had to have really sucked." Hotch huffed as he blinked away the tears, "you always were the master of the understatement Prentiss."

"It's my way sir."

Hotch cleared his throat, "well, what about that girl? The one in your report. The one you couldn't save. How do you feel about that? I saw your face when you realized she wasn't coming out. You can't tell me that didn't affect you."

Emily nodded slowly as she stared at the table, "it did affect me. It does . . . affect me. But," she looked up and gave him a sad smile, "my fortune cookie said, you can't save them all." She gave a wave of her hand, "hell, we usually get called in so late, and after things have become a complete cluster, that we're lucky if we can save half of them. I did everything I could for her, but she was a kid, and I had a few hours to try and undo all the psychological damage that had been inflicted on her for the last fifteen years. It would have been a miracle if I had gotten through to her. Cyrus convinced her he was a prophet and she was seeking vengeance for him," with her jaw set she nodded her head firmly, "her death is on his hands, not mine."

Hotch really looked at her, her eyes were clear, her conscience was clear. She would be okay.

But as they say, if you look too hard into the abyss it looks back into you, and as Hotch looked at Emily, she looked back at him.

"Are _you_ okay Hotch? Really?"

He thought about lying to her and saying 'yes, I'm fine.' Just like had every other time someone who actually cared about the answer had ever asked him that question. Rossi . . . Morgan . . . Gideon . . . Haley . . . even Emily herself. But then he remembered the decisions he had come to after New York, and he saw how this very private woman had just shared something personal of herself with him. She was trying to reach him.

He took a breath and he put down his pen as he looked over at her.

"No Prentiss, I'm not okay." He had nothing more to add. It took everything in him just to say that much out loud.

Biting the inside of her lip, Emily held his gaze for a moment before she nodded and dropped her eyes down to the table. It was a start.

And tomorrow they would go from there. But tonight, now, she would just sit with him in silence as they listened to the passing of time on the tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . of their watches.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I understand convention says that Em would feel guilty that she lost that girl, but as I was writing this chapter, I really THOUGHT about it, and logically, it didn't make sense that she should. And I speak as a person with an extremely overdeveloped sense of guilt. In that situation the chances of her being able to change that girl's mind were slim to none. She'd been indoctrinated her entire life, it would have taken months, if not years, of intensive therapy to break that allegiance. Not a couple hours spread over three days of Em whispering in her ear. So I decided Emily had no business feeling bad about her death beyond simply the tragedy of her dying at all._

_We'll be lighter, not necessarily all fluffy, but definitely lighter over the next few chapters. Coffees and lunches mostly. _

_**New Story Announcement**_

_I am posting a new story tonight. Inspired by one of the prompts, it's going to be a spinoff of this world, starting __**right**__ after this chapter. So essentially it's canon through the beginning of season 4, but the reason I'm calling/making it a 'spinoff' is because I wanted an established warmth and camaraderie in their relationship that we don't necessary "see" on screen. One of them will suffer a personal tragedy. And that's going to be called "All the King's Horses" and like I said, it goes up later tonight._

_Reviews folks, love 'em or leave 'em!_

_Next: __**"Back to Basics"**_


	52. Back to Basics

**Author's Note:** I heave a sigh of relief in coming back tonight to do a final read through on this chapter. So nice to come back briefly to my slightly fluffier universe.

And total aside: We now have four more authors besides Kavi and myself that have submitted to the title challenge! So there are some great new H/P & friendship stories from TFM, Sami Marie, Americanchick and last but not least, my best girl Arc ;) If you haven't seen them on the main list you can find them all on the community page which links over from my profile. It's interesting to see what different people came up with using the same prompts.

* * *

_Late June _

**Back to Basics**

Somewhere in the middle of their annual review with Strauss, Emily noticed that Hotch's jaw had tightened up.

Sort of to 'vice-like' proportions.

Half the team had been pulled off on emergency consults, so it was just Hotch, JJ and Emily in the room. And though he continued to answer all of the questions in his usual polite professional tone, as they neared the lunch break Emily looked over to see that little muscle over his right eyebrow had begun to twitch.

Perfect health or not . . . she bit back a sigh . . . one of these days she was afraid he'd bottle up enough of his stress to stroke out right at his desk.

A few minutes later . . . as they were packing up after Strauss' instruction to meet back at two pm . . . Emily hurried around the table to intercept him before he could leave the room.

"Sir," she blocked his path, "I think we should go for a walk."

Hotch was already shaking his head before she finished the sentence.

"Prentiss, I can't. I have to go back and review the expense reports again before we reconvene."

And then JJ interrupted them.

"Guys I'm going to go back to my office and rest a bit before round two." Hotch's jaw softened, "just shoot me a text if you don't feel well later JJ, you can sit the next part out."

"Thanks sir," she said with a nod back, "but I just need a break." Then she gave him a pointed look. "You too I think."

Before he could respond, she turned and left the room. Her hand was on her belly.

Emily watched her go before she looked over at Hotch.

"See, it's not just me that thinks so. And it's not as if you don't already know every line down to the last decimal point. Come on Hotch, we'll get a sandwich and go out to the quad for," she checked her watch, "a half hour."

Seeing that he was again about to protest, she leaned closer.

"It really won't do for your head to explode in the middle of the review. For one thing it will be a terrible mess to clean up and this is a new suit. For another, we'll never be able to finish up the expense reports because only you know why Spencer had to itemize two troll pens out in Salt Lake."

Though he wasn't looking at her, Emily could see the corner of Hotch's mouth quiver.

"Fine," he looked up, "thirty minutes though," he said sternly, "that's all."

She gave a stern nod in return, "understood."

So they went down to the cafeteria to grab two turkey sandwich and two bottles of water. Emily shook her head when he tried to get his fourth cup of coffee for the day.

"I really don't think you need to elevate your blood pressure any higher right now sir."

And though he rolled his eyes at her remark, he did allow she might have a _small_ point there. So he decided to stick with just the water for now. It's not like he needed the caffeine for energy, he was already wired enough to light up the city of Chicago.

From the cafeteria, they continued outside into the warm August sun. Both of them were accustomed to the heat with Hotch having grown up in the South and Emily spending so many years in the Middle East.

As it was, 86 degrees Fahrenheit was practically frigid air for this part of Virginia at the height of summer. And they ended up settling into a slightly shaded, fairly secluded part of the quad watching the trainees hurry past them to their classes. Emily noted the different hues of their shirts and swallowing her bite of sandwich, turned to Hotch.

"What's your favorite color?"

Hotch gave a little huff, nobody had asked him that in . . . he couldn't remember, but he was probably a kid.

He swallowed his bite. "Blue." Then he looked up from his sandwich with a little smile.

"Yours?"

"Chinese apple red," she pursed her lips, "season?"

"Autumn."

Her eyes crinkled. "Me too. It's the only time of the year that the weather was always nice no matter where we lived in the world." She looked over at him.

"City?"

And back and forth they went, trying to cover what they could in the limited time they had. Favorite snack food, restaurant, ice cream, action movie, classical author. Sharing simple facts that friends should know about each other. Hotch had started them out on this journey but Emily was doing her best to make sure that the tether she was using to pull him closer, didn't snap, that she didn't leave him behind. She was half joking to herself earlier in the conference room, but she really was worried that if he didn't find a way to decompress, that one day this job would kill him. She looked over at him laughing openly at her answer to favorite western.

_Yeah, she wasn't about to let that happen._

"Prentiss," Hotch chuckled, "_Blazing Saddles_ is not an appropriate answer to 'favorite western,' that's the answer to 'favorite Mel Brooks movie,' or," he waved his hand in the air, "best farce from the seventies."

Of course Emily knew that . . . she just wanted to make him laugh. He didn't do it nearly often enough. But she'd let him think he'd made some valid point. she gave an exaggerated eye roll as she gave her real answer, "FINE, then I say _Unforgiven_."

Hotch sobered up, but his eyes were still soft as he responded quietly.

"Yeah, I like that one too." He looked to the ground and then shook his head slightly before checking his watch.

"Come on, we have to get going or we'll be late," his gaze shifted as he narrowed his eyebrows at her, "you kept me out here more than thirty minutes."

Emily's lip quirked up.

"It's not like I pulled my weapon on you, Hotch. You stayed of your own free will."

Hotch just gave her a look as they threw their trash into the barrel and continued back to the conference room with their paperwork and their half full bottles of water. They'd talked so much they'd barely finished their sandwiches, let alone their drinks. They were a little early, and as they sat down next to each other and started to spread out their paperwork again. Hotch suddenly looked up.

"Prentiss, you want to continue that conversation sometime?"

Emily grinned as she opened her laptop.

"Absolutely sir," she winked, "I didn't get to ask about your favorite Charlie's Angel."

Hotch's mouth twitched as JJ and Strauss entered, Strauss going to the other side of the table and JJ sitting to Hotch's left. He leaned over to whisper in Emily's ear, "Sabrina," before he straightened up, simultaneously slipping on his full Agent Hotchner mask of impenetrable armor.

Emily bit her lip as she tapped her pen.

_Interesting, she picked Sabrina too._

Then she blinked to refocus on the matter at hand. Strauss was giving an exaggerated sigh while she pushed her glasses up her nose.

"Now then, Agent Hotchner," she pulled out the next spreadsheet, "perhaps you'd be good enough to explain to me these rather 'unconventional' writing implements that Dr. Reid purchased on your last case in Utah."

Hotch flicked his eyes over to Emily . . . gave her an almost imperceptible smile . . . and with the next blink, turned his full attention to Strauss.

"Yes, ma'am," his eyebrow quirked up, "what did you want to know?"

* * *

_A/N 2: And of course the inside Charlie's Angels' joke here is that Sabrina was played by Kate Jackson and that of course is also who plays Ambassador Prentiss. And it circles back around that the one Hotch thought most attractive was the one that looked the most like Emily. Because seriously, Paget Brewster and Kate Jackson do make a good mother/daughter duo. I should add my own partiality to Sabrina here as well. She was the 'smart one' :)_

_I believe Arc read this and wanted to read the troll pen story but I don't know if I can write it. I sort of like the idea of it just hanging out there mysteriously. Not sure if I could do it justice :)_

_Next: __**"Continuing the Conversation"**_


	53. Continuing the Conversation

**Author's Note:** I know I didn't post last night. I fell asleep. Lo siento!

['I'm sorry' being the one bit of Spanish that still always readily comes to mind. I tended to screw up a lot in Spanish class.]

* * *

_Late June _

**Continuing the Conversation**

"But sir, how did this happen? How is this even _possible_?"

"Prentiss, it just _is_. You need to get past it."

"But Hotch," Emily looked at him incredulously, "how is it that you've NEVER seen any of the Lord of the Rings movies?!"

Shaking her head, she looked down to her half eaten sandwich, "I actually feel . . . sadness for you."

as he rolled his eyes in exasperation, Hotch put his hand up to flag down the waitress for more coffee. Once he caught her eye he pointed between their cups and she nodded, and _only_ then did he turn back to his conversation with Emily.

God knows he was going to need a double dose of caffeine to get through this lunch.

Though . . . his eyes crinkled slightly when he saw the look on Emily's face . . . he actually was having a really good time. She was just . . . crazy! But in a good way. She would get so excited about the smallest things. And she could converse about anything! He was sure her IQ was somewhere in her file but he'd never looked at it. Now he knew that he never would, it would feel like a violation. Emily might not match Reid . . . who should really be off building rockets to Mars . . . but she was definitely placing second in the BAU scholastic all stars. And that was saying something because they weren't exactly a bunch of slouches.

She even had a favorite theory of quantum physics!

Besides Reid, Hotch didn't know anyone else that even knew enough about that field to have an _opinion_ on it, let alone a favorite theory _about_ it. But she told him she went through cycles where new topics caught her attention and a few years ago she saw some something on NOVA about string theory and she was off and running. She read up everything that she could on it until she moved on to the next thing.

And the next thing was . . . to both his general amusement and his current lament . . . all things Hobbit related.

His lament because that was how they'd come around to the topic of him having never seen the movies. And he could clearly see that this revelation was a most distressing development for her.

As the waitress came over, Hotch gave her a nod and a polite thanks as she refilled their cups. Once she was gone, he turned back to the matter at hand.

Frodo, et al.

"Prentiss," he said in exasperation, "I haven't been to the movies in probably a decade. Well," he thought back, "maybe once or twice, but basically Haley and I just watched rentals, and all the Rings movies just seemed like a serious commitment of time. And that was something I never had." He tipped his head as he added drolly, "if it helps regain a little of your respect, I did read the books in high school."

Emily shook her head as she sighed, "yeah, I guess that helps a little, but," she pointed her finger at him as she gave him a mock scowl, "before I die, I am going to make sure that you have seen the Peter Jackson masterpiece in all fifteen hours of its uncut glory."

He gave her a look, "as life goals go Prentiss that one really is quite lofty. Maybe once that one's crossed off the list, we can ride around in the back of an el camino, or eat white chocolate."

Emily . . . never one to miss the most important thread of a conversation . . . scrunched up her brow, "you've _never_ tasted white chocolate?"

Geez, the hits just kept on coming today.

Hotch dropped his head to his chest . . . crap.

Still perplexed, Emily picked up her cup, blowing on the hot liquid before she looked back at him.

"I mean I'm not saying its like the greatest invention of all time, but how could you have not even tasted it, like, ever?"

She took a sip of her coffee and as she put the cup back on the table, sighed dramatically, "you really have led a very sheltered life sir."

Hotch raised a bemused eyebrow, "yes, I was just thinking last week when I visited my _sixteenth_ American city this year, 'wow, I really need to get out more.'"

Emily smirked as she picked up her other half of sandwich . . . he really was quite funny. She'd derived much pleasure over the past couple years just yanking his chain, but occasionally over that time she'd also noticed that he could be amusing on purpose. And since they'd started getting coffee together last month . . . and more recently lunch . . . she'd found out Hotch actually had a really good sense of humor.

It was just buried down under layers of sadness, grief and all kinds of other bad things she wished he didn't lug around with him.

But she was starting to get more frequent glimpses of that other Hotch. A Hotch that could smile readily, and not begrudgingly. She liked that Hotch.

He was . . . she suddenly realized . . . fast becoming a really good friend. Somebody she felt like she could talk to if something was bothering her.

Not that the other Hotch hadn't helped her through a lot of bad things, he had, and she was grateful for that. But those were all _really_ bad things.

Their initial bond was forged through walking some very ugly roads.

Not all of life was that dark though, that serious. Mostly life was just made up of the little things. Sometimes what was bothering you was just that you got stuck in traffic for an hour, or that somebody jammed up the copy machine and didn't fix it.

The dumb little things that can make or break your day.

And Hotch was becoming somebody that she could complain to about stuff like that. He listened to her. Not to say he wouldn't make fun of her if she was being ridiculous, which she knew she was on occasion, but she could tell he actually cared even when she was talking about something that was in the grand scheme, completely insignificant. So now she had both Hotches.

Big problem one and little problem one . . . she swallowed her bite of sandwich and looked over at him . . . the two together were becoming her new favorite person.

Hotch caught Emily staring at him out of the corner of his eye and he put down his French fry, "what?"

She smiled, "this is fun."

Hotch's eyes crinkled, "it is fun."

Furrowing her brow a bit nervously, Emily bit her lip. She didn't want him to think she was a total dork, but she really liked spending time with him. Maybe they could make this lunch buddy thing a more permanent arrangement.

As she caught his eyes, she cleared her throat nervously, "would you like to maybe start having fun on a more regular basis?"

Hotch quirked his lip up . . . she was cute when she was nervous. And he had just been trying to think of some way to ask her that question himself.

Finally a perk to her mind reading ability.

"If schedules permit, then yes," he tipped his head, "I'd like that very much."

Emily flashed him a brilliant smile and he couldn't stop the dimples from appearing. Then she reached over and stole his last French fry, and as he glared at her, she laughed.

And at that sound, he felt a warmth appear in a part of his chest that had been cold for awhile.

He narrowed his eyes right before he reached over and grabbed her last bite of sandwich off her plate. He popped it in his mouth and her jaw dropped.

"That was mine."

Still chewing, he nodded and then he swallowed before raising his eyebrow, "and that was MY French fry."

His mouth quivered as he saw her scowl, but she didn't say anything.

She knew she had no argument there.

He pulled out his wallet and dropped twenty bucks on the table . . . it would more than cover their sandwiches and the tip . . . then he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the booth.

"Come on," he sighed dramatically, "I'll buy you a cookie on the way back to the office."

Emily's eyes crinkled as he led her out of the diner, "can I get the big one?" She heard him grumble something under his breath and she grinned.

_'Oh yeah, she was so getting the big cookie!'_

* * *

_A/N 2: It's funny writing this story simultaneous with the darker one. Just that they're bonding in totally different ways, over totally different circumstances, all at the same time. Literally at the same time, not only am I writing them simultaneously, but also the same passage of time in their lives is being covered. _

_Because I did miss yesterday I might put up an extra one sometime over the next few days. Not today though :) However, I will be posting on Horses later. For sure, I promise to remain conscious long enough to do that. Like Emily, I prefer to have small life goals.  
_

_Next: __**"The Lightning Round"**_


	54. The Lightning Round

**Author's Note:**

Just a general announcement that there are a new set of prompts posted on the TV Title Challenge. Plus, I put up a bonus one with special guidelines! And another author has joined us, kingsmeadroad! Yay! So we're now up to over a half dozen authors and more than a dozen stories in the archive.

* * *

_Late June _

**The Lightning Round**

"Adams Family or Munsters?"

"Adams Family."

"Cat Woman or Wonder Woman?"

"Wonder Woman."

"Budweiser or Coors?"

"Budweiser."

"Paris Hilton or Catherine Coulter"

Hotch scrunched up his face and Emily nodded her approval.

"You're right, it was a trick question. They both suck."

Hotch snorted as they started again.

"Sandra Day O'Connor or Ruth Bader Ginsberg?"

"Uh, Ginsberg."

"BZZZTT! You hesitated! You lose!"

Emily grinned as she flopped back on the bench. That was the longest he'd gone yet. Twelve questions. He was getting pretty good at this little game she'd invented for two reasons. Mostly so she could learn as much about him in as short a period of time as possible, but secondarily, she derived much enjoyment out of simply driving him nuts by making him play a game show. But he'd been a really good sport about it.

And though she didn't think he'd admit it, she thought he was actually starting to enjoy it.

With a roll of his eyes Hotch sat back on the bench next to her.

They were out in the quad playing what Emily had dubbed _'The Lightning Round.'_ She shot questions at him rapid fire and the moment he hesitated, he lost. He'd already lost three times in the last fifteen minutes. Invariably he'd stop and actually think about the question and she'd buzz him out. The problem was that this information exchange was never just limited to any particular topic. She was as likely to ask him Jetsons or Flintstones as Twain or Fitzgerald. Actually that was a good one. He was asking her that one next.

Yeah, he got to ask her questions too, but it wasn't quite the same. He had to answer immediately, she hemmed, hawed and changed her answer, yet _he_ couldn't buzz _her_ out. Not that he'd actually ever _make_ the buzzing noise, but the point was, he couldn't even if he wanted to. Her game, her rules.

And . . . his lip quirked up as he glanced over at her . . . Emily didn't lose.

"You ready Prentiss?"

Eyes sparkling she rubbed her hands together, "let's do this sir!"

He quickly schooled his features, he tried to go as long as possible doing this in interrogation mode. Usually he'd get like three questions in before she'd completely break his concentration.

"Lake or ocean?"

"Pass."

"What? You can't PASS!" He sputtered in astonishment.

A new record, she broke him on the first question.

Emily frowned, "but, oceans have sharks in them and lakes have snakes and, I don't like either of those things." Shaking her head she looked away, "I just . . . I just, uh, I can't . . . um."

She was so flustered he almost laughed out loud. As it was he had to drop his head to his chest and clear his throat before he could speak. Then he looked back up.

"Fine, you can pass. Next question."

She nodded, "okay but not so hard this time." Hotch rolled his eyes, not so hard this time. You'd think he'd asked her for the formula to split the atom. Shaking his head he refocused.

"Beatles or Stones?"

"Stones! No, wait, Beatles. Depends. I like Beatles for their ballads and Stones for everything else."

A ghost of a smile passed Hotch's lips . . . this is why he liked to play her ridiculous game. He didn't just get the basic factual response, he got the in-depth inner workings of Emily Prentiss' brain as well.

"Twain or Fitzgerald?"

"Fitzgerald," she smiled, "I loved the Roaring Twenties. I want to get one of those flapper girl dresses. I have a picture of my grandmother wearing one."

And as always, Hotch let her finish her thought completely before he asked the next one. It wasn't so much The Lightning Round with her as The Flickering Bulb Round. But he enjoyed listening to her musings.

"Matthew Broderick or John Cusack?"

She grinned, "John Cusack." His lips twitched, he occasionally would throw in a question solely for her amusement.

"Paris or London?"

"London. No, Paris. No, London. Shoot," frowning she looked up, "I can't decide."

Hotch raised a sardonic eyebrow, "hmm, then I think that means . . . you lose."

She sulked, "yeah, I guess it does." She'd never lost her own game before.

Damn trick questions.

When she saw Hotch's mouth quivering, Emily's lip quirked up in response . . . it was nice to see him completely relaxed. Even if it was only for a few minutes. She saw him check his watch and then she looked down at her own and cut him off before he could say they should be getting back.

"One more quick round."

He shot a glare at her, "really, really quick. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

Gah! Pressure! Now she didn't know what to ask. And he's looking at her expectantly so she just blurted out the first thing that popped into her head.

"World War I or World War II?"

Hotch looked over incredulously, "what!"

Emily gave him a sheepish grin.

"I panicked."

* * *

_A/N 2: This is one of my personal favorites of the summer conversation pieces. Actually I like it so much I might write another one :) I just have to think of a good series of answers._

_I'm going to tell you now that today is my birthday. Yes, yay, go me. I survived another spin around the planet. And I tell you this fact as nothing more than a completely shameless pitch for reviews. Because really, as cyber presents go, that would be best thing I could get :)_

_Next: __**"It Was to Be Expected"**_


	55. It Was To Be Expected

**Author's Note:** I swear to God I am not picking on Garcia this week! This was written a little while ago and it's just coincidence it came up in the line-up next. Though I do promise she has a cute little chapter of her own coming up in a day or so.

* * *

_Early July_

**It Was To Be Expected**

"What the hell were you thinking Garcia!? This was COMPLETELY unprofessional!"

In response to her dressing down, Garcia fidgeted in front of Hotch's desk.

"But, well, sir . . ." she bit her lip, "it was just a joke."

Hotch narrowed his gaze.

"A _joke?_" he responded incredulously. "Does it look like I think this is funny? You hacked into the FBI mainframe and altered a secure government file. That's a criminal act Penelope! You're LUCKY I didn't suspend your security clearance!" He shook his head in disgust, "I am _very_ disappointed in you."

Garcia's head fell to her chest . . . she swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry sir."

Hotch's lips twitched once but he quickly got that under control.

"Now," he huffed, "I trust that all files will be back to their original state within the hour?"

At Garcia's sharp nod he continued.

"And after that, you will apologize to your co-worker for this gross violation of both her personal privacy and her professional reputation." He tipped his head as he gave her a hard look, "I can assure you that she did not find your 'joke' funny either."

Still staring at her shoes, Garcia gave another sharp nod.

"Understood sir."

Hotch quickly ran down his mental checklist again . . . figured he was done scaring the crap out of Garcia . . . and dismissed her.

She bolted so fast she looked like one of those cartoon characters. And after she was gone, he stared at his open doorway for a second before dropping his gaze back down to his desk.

He had to bite his lip when his jaw started to quiver.

As he again picked up the small plastic rectangle that had caused so much trouble, he thought back to earlier that afternoon.

God she'd been _so_ mad when she stormed into his office! It had just arrived in her inter-office mail. He'd warned her though. He'd seen this one coming a mile away. And everything he had said to Garcia when he was reaming her out had been entirely correct. It was a violation, it was unprofessional, and it was technically a criminal act.

Of course that didn't change the fact that it was also damn funny too.

The irony of that did not escape him. But if only Garcia hadn't hacked the system to do it. She could have just dummied one up and he wouldn't have said a word.

It was her own damn fault that she got in trouble.

With a little smile on his face, Hotch traced his finger tip over the miniature copy of Emily's senior high school yearbook picture. Then he slipped her new official security identification into his top drawer for safekeeping.

He'd promised her she could burn it later.

* * *

_**A/N 2:**__ The idea for this one came from MissingLashes after I wrote the Tabula Rasa chapter, she said she'd like to see Garcia make the high school picture into an ID, so, I wrote it. See, sometimes if you ask, I can make it so :)_

_No Horses chapter tonight. Well, extremely unlikely I'll be posting there tonight. It's very fortunate I still have chapters of Girl stockpiled because my brain short circuited this afternoon. I literally had two chapters of existing stories, and three brand new prompt inspired stories come to me all at the same time. All literally writing themselves, hearing dialogue, seeing scenes at the same time in my head. It was a wild scene! I haven't been able to write a thing since it happened because I just can't figure out where to start disentangling them. Every time I try to start writing one to get it out, my brain panics and shuts down! That's not a good feeling. _

_So until I perhaps have a couple glasses of wine and trick it into relaxing, I can't get anything on the page. I personally blame the beautiful weather. I went for a walk by the ocean, blue sky, blue water, it was apparently much too conducive to creative thought, and I broke my brain. And the insurance just lapsed. _

_Bottom line, either you'll have like seventeen new things from me this weekend, or just one little posting of Girl._

_Next: __**"Covert Operations"**_


	56. Covert Operations

**Author's Note**: My other Garcia piece. Hopefully now I have redeemed myself :)

* * *

_Early July_

**Covert Operations**

"What do you think they talk about?"

Garcia shrugged.

"I don't know," she popped a chip into her mouth, "sales at Brooks Brothers. The relative benefits of witness intimidation to be derived from the solid black versus slightly charcoal ensemble."

Reid smiled as he ducked behind the potted plant in the corner of the exit to the quad.

Hotch had just looked up . . . and though he and Garcia were behind reflective glass . . . you never could be too careful. Because the two of them were spying on, pardon . . . _observing_ . . . Hotch and Emily sitting out in the quad.

Ten minutes ago Garcia had come over and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out of the bullpen. It was just after Emily had gone up to collect Hotch for lunch. Garcia told Reid she wanted to 'observe' their behavior and Derek wanted no part of it.

As Reid was dragged down the hall, he wanted to know why she couldn't 'observe' alone. Garcia had shaken her head and told him obviously if she was caught she needed to have somebody with her to trip and leave as a diversion while she ran off alone to save herself. Though he'd rolled his eyes at her response, then figured he was a little curious himself so he might as well take a quick peak before he went to get his own lunch.

Garcia started smacking him with her greasy fingertips, getting potato chip crumbs on his sweater vest.

"OH MY GOD! Did you know that Hotch had dimples?"

Reid simultaneously peeked his head out, while brushing off his shirt.

"Yeah, I actually saw one once before, but he was really angry then and his face twisted up kind of scary." Reid puckered his lips, "hmm, he doesn't look angry now."

"You got that right baby face. There might not be any teeth visible but that was definitely a full smile."

Figuring that was going to be the highlight of Garcia's excursion, Reid straightened up.

"Okay Garcia," he exhaled, "I think dimples are the best you're going to get today. You ready to head back?"

Penelope stood on her tiptoes as she chewed on her lip.

"Yeah, I guess. I was just curious. Hotch never even left his desk for lunch before and now Emily's had him taking a break, a short one granted, but still an actual coffee or lunch break three days out of the last five. I wanted to know if she had exchanged him for some Pod Hotch. But now I see a scowl, so I'm pretty sure that's the real deal over there."

Brushing her hands off as she dumped her empty bag in the trash, she turned back to Reid.

"Okay, I'm done. Let's go get something to eat."

"Garcia," Reid looked down at her incredulously as they started to walk down the hall, "you just ate a _whole_ bag of potato chips."

"Um, that wasn't a 'whole' bag," she responded with a faint flap of her hand, "that was a snack bag, and obviously as such, that was just a _snack_. Now I want lunch."

Spencer just shook his head as they headed into the crowded cafeteria.

He'd never understand women.

* * *

_A/N 2: The first of the little team observation pieces like I did over in The Hours. These will pop up occasionally. _

_And I know this was short, HOWEVER, my brain unfroze and I wrote a million things today! New chapter on Horses is going up shortly and I wrote two new challenges. A JJ/Rossi story, which is already up, and an H/P crossover with Gilmore Girls (yes Gilmore Girls) which will be going up shortly. Both of these are totally outside my usual comfort zones so please, do read them and let me know what you think. I'm stretching some new muscles! Thanks Guys!  
_

_Next: __**"Touching & Being Touched"**_


	57. Touching & Being Touched

**Author's Note:** I'm pretty sure that with all my dark angsty postings the past few days that Kavi thinks I'm about to pull a Virginia Woolf. So to prove her that I'm not about to take a long walk off a short pier, I'll put up a couple of chapters of Girl today. But I do have some of my heavier stuff done too so I'll do one of these now and then one tonight. Angst bookends if you will :)

* * *

_Early July_

**Touching & Being Touched**

The first time Emily grabbed his arm when she was making a point, Hotch had been a little startled.

They had been getting coffee for a few weeks after New York, and then they had started getting lunch after Colorado. By that point he'd found that he very much enjoyed her company. But even with all that had happened between them, people didn't as a rule spontaneously reach out and touch him when they were talking.

Not that Emily had ever complied with that rule.

They'd definitely been quite demonstrative with one another on certain occasions in the past. But generally that was only within the confines of an emotionally charged situation. Or they'd been drinking. Though Hotch had noticed over the past few years that Emily was very casually tactile with the others, Morgan, Spencer, JJ, occasionally even with Dave.

Clearly she now felt personally connected enough with him to do the same.

And if she noticed that the first time she did it out in public that he froze for a second, she didn't let on. And then as they spent more time together, she started doing it more often. Clearly without thinking about it . . . it was just her way.

And he started to appreciate how nice it was just to have regular physical contact with another person.

Because he'd realized that Emily was the only person besides his son who had touched him like that in the past year. That was kind of sad when he thought about it. But it was just something as simple as her running her fingers over his arm, feeling the warmth of her skin through his shirt, and the sense of affinity he got from sharing his personal space with someone he cared about.

It was like talking about his day . . . it was another thing that he hadn't realize he'd missed, until he had it back. And after a couple weeks of her doing it to him, one day he did it to her.

They were sitting on a bench eating lunch and Emily was rambling on about something. And he wanted to get her attention, so he'd lightly grasped her flailing arm. She'd stopped talking immediately, and looked down. Then she looked up and gave him a big grin.

Of course that action had only shut her up for twenty seconds and she'd immediately started off again on the quality of the tuna on Tuesdays when Doris was making it versus Thursdays when Enrique was making it. But either way, even if he hadn't been able to change the topic of conversation, he was pleased with himself.

After that it was easier to make contact, and shortly thereafter, he stopped having to think about it at all. If they were out alone, sometimes he'd grab her hand to pull her along. And at work now she'd pat his arm to get his attention or he'd put his hand on her shoulder as they walked through a door. Nobody else even noticed. They were just the normal little touches that people exchange every day and don't even realize it.

But for him . . . for them . . . those were the strings that were beginning to bind them together.

* * *

_A/N 2: Arc read this and wanted to know who made the better tuna, Doris or Enrique. I'm really not sure, you'll have to ask Emily._

_Next: __**"Insignificant Others"**_


	58. Insignificant Others

**Author's Note:** No angst in between postings. I decided to add more to Horses so that'll go up tomorrow. There is nothing to read today but the fluffy bunny part of the universe :)

* * *

_Mid July_

**Insignificant Others**

"Prentiss, what's going on?"

Emily looked up in confusion, "huh?" Then she realized what Hotch had said and she shook her head, "oh, ah nothing."

As he leaned back in the booth, Hotch crossed his arms at his chest and raised his eyebrow.

They'd been sitting in this coffee shop for fifteen minutes, and Emily's phone had buzzed twice. And each time she'd looked at it, she'd gotten that same worried look on her face, before sending it straight to voicemail. All the while not breaking stride in the middle of the story she was telling him about the time she almost got a tattoo when she went to Prague. But stride break or no, clearly _something_ was going on.

And he'd be damned if he left this diner without finding out what it was!

Seeing that Hotch had on his 'you've got to be kidding me' face, Emily knew that he had no intention of letting this go. So with a sigh, she dropped her head to the table.

"This guy keeps calling me. He just won't take 'I don't want to ever see you again' for an answer."

"What's his name?"

Recognizing that was the tone Hotch used just before he removed someone's still beating heart and showed it to him, Emily smirked and raised her head, "you don't have to kill him."

Hotch's jaw twitched as he said slowly, "what's . . . his . . . name?"

Emily took a sip of her coffee and put it back down on the table, debating. Finally she flicked her eyes back up to him.

"Andrew Groener. But Hotch he hasn't done anything, we just . . ." she rolled her eyes, "we went out a couple times, then something happened and I decided I didn't want to see him anymore and he just doesn't understand why I dropped him like a hot potato."

She honest to God couldn't figure out why he was so into her. They'd literally gone out three times, they'd never slept together, and she'd only kissed him once. Once! She was good but she wasn't that good! Yet here he is chasing her down like she's the great love of his life.

Please.

Hotch stared at Emily for a second, biting the inside of his cheek. He needed to ask the question and very much didn't want to do it. Because if she said yes, then he really was going to _literally _kill this guy. And where was he supposed to dump a body this time of year? It was the peak of summer.

The smell would be horrendous.

Finally he leaned forward.

"The something that happened," he asked quietly, "did he _do_ something to you."

Emily looked at Hotch in confusion for a moment, and then her eyes suddenly widened in understanding.

"No! No," she said while shaking her head vehemently, "nothing like that." Then she paused for a second before dropping her eyes back to her coffee cup.

"It was Colorado. I sort of reassessed after that and just decided I didn't want to waste my time. Well, I mean I didn't phrase it like that, but that's what it boiled down to. And I told him when I got back," she flicked her eyes up, "you know when I was out on leave, and, uh, he just doesn't understand." She shook her head in exasperation, "we'd only gone out a couple times. It wasn't serious," she paused for a second and then shrugged, "it was nothing. A couple baseball games, a few beers and one sit down dinner. I barely even kissed him! It was all completely casual but," she paused, "it was sort of spread out over a month so I guess he thought we were 'going out' when we weren't. Not really. He just got the wrong idea." She looked back up to him, "but really Hotch, he's not stalkery, he's just . . . just . . . "

She paused, looking for the right term . . . finally she had it.

"Overly persistent."

Hotch's brow darkened, "you said you didn't want to see him anymore and that should have been the end of the discussion. And you of all people know how quickly persistent turns ugly. Seriously Prentiss, I want to talk to him." He tipped his head, "I promise not to hurt him."

Emily's lips twitched as she wondered if other women had friends that had to make promises like that.

"That's very sweet Hotch but you don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to, I _want_ to."

Hotch took a sip of his coffee and put the cup back down on the table. Then he ran his thumb around the lip of the mug, waiting for her to make a decision.

This was not the first time that he'd become aware of one of his female agents having a problem with a 'persistent' suitor. Before Emily had arrived at the BAU, he'd once overheard JJ telling Garcia about an ex-boyfriend who had shown up at her house in the middle of the night pounding on the door. Three nights in a row! He was drunk and he'd scared the hell out of her. But she'd handled it on her own, flashed her gun, chased him off and then filed a complaint with the police. She had told Garcia not to say anything to the guys, rightfully assuming they'd be 'upset.'

And Hotch was indeed 'upset.'

He had met the guy once and remembered he worked at ATF. So he'd called a buddy of his over there, got the guy taken off field work so he could ride a desk all day. And then a month after that, he had him transferred to Buffalo with a permanent note added to his file referencing JJ's DC complaint. He had to undergo sensitivity and sexual harassment training every six months. For all intents his career was destroyed, and Hotch didn't feel a twinge of guilt over it.

And if this guy Groehner was calling Emily this often three weeks _after_ she broke up with him, then eventually he was going to show up at her door too. And though Hotch had no doubt that Emily could handle herself, she wasn't invulnerable. She could lose control of the situation and she could get hurt. And now that he was aware that there _was _a situation, Hotch had no intention of letting it get to that point. He would put the fear of Satan himself into this douche bag, and that would be the end of that. And if it wasn't, well, he'd start looking for dump sites.

Nobody fucks with his girls.

Emily stared at Hotch for a moment, trying to decide if she really should just let him talk to Andrew. Three weeks was getting a little bit ridiculous. And his messages were all whiney and "why don't you love me? Is it something I did?" Yeah, it is something you did. You exist on the planet loser!

Not that she'd actually said _that_ when she'd broken up with him. That would have been a little cruel given he hadn't done anything wrong at the time. He was just kinda bleh. Not very interesting. She'd really only gone out with him the first time because she'd been bored and he had tickets to the Nationals. Then she felt a little guilty so she felt like she owed him another date. The dinner. And that wasn't horrible, which goes to show how low her standards were, so she'd agreed to go to the next baseball game with him.

Damn Nationals, she thought with a scowl, totally screwing up her social life. Like she couldn't do that on her own.

But since she'd broken it off completely, she'd just been ignoring his voicemails, hoping he'd go away. He'd actually cut way back from the first two days of ten messages a day, then he went down to six a day, and now he was at four a day. So he was kind of getting the point, just not fast enough.

And her patience was wearing a little thin. She'd thought about going to talk to him herself, but she didn't want him to encourage him. And she didn't really want to break his nose either. Not yet anyway. Simply ignoring him had seemed the best course of action at the time. But Hotch was scary. Very scary actually, it would probably save her a lot of grief in the long run if she just let him do this. Not to mention that now that he knew she was having a problem he was going to be watching her like a hawk.

Okay . . . she rolled her eyes . . . well that nailed it. God knows that she didn't need to give him another thing to worry about. So she tipped her head.

"He works at Treasury." Then she shot Hotch a hard look, "but he's just a pencil pusher so don't like, kill him or anything." She quirked her lip up, "you just being you should be more than sufficient to make any point you wish to make."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he took another sip of his coffee . . . he was surprised that she'd agreed so quickly. He'd thought for sure that it would take a couple days to wear her down. This guy definitely must be getting on her last nerve. Well, no longer, he'd look him up when he got back to the office and take a drive after work.

Then Hotch's lips twitched as Emily leaned across the table to blot his tie with a napkin.

"You dripped," she murmured while scrubbing a spot he couldn't see.

"Thanks," he whispered. And as she sat back, she gave him a soft smile.

"No problem. Thanks for offering to go scare the crap out of my loser ex-non-boyfriend."

Hotch gave her the same soft smile.

"No problem."

After he'd stared at her for a moment longer, though that action was mostly involuntary, Hotch tipped his head towards the door.

"We should probably get back."

With a nod of agreement, Emily reached over the booth to grab her bag.

A minute later, as they were walking towards the exit, Hotch put his hand on the small of her back.

"So," he asked as he leaned down, "is this the first time one of your relationships has ended on such a pleasant note?"

Emily rolled her eyes.

"You don't know the half of it sir."

* * *

_A/N 2: Now that they're moving past the basics, conversations will be more substantive moving forward. __More friendshipy, helping each other out with things. _

_And I had this little conversation with Arc about Hotch's over protectiveness here of JJ and Emily and how women think its sweet regardless of all the advances in feminism. And personally, I don't think it has anything to do with whether or not you're a feminist. I think that's more of a race memory of the tribe mentality. Seriously. You're reacting to the behavior because it's proof that you 'belong' to somebody, they care about you, they'll protect you. And it doesn't have to be a man. If I had flipped around the facts of this story and made Emily the one who had destroyed this guy's career for JJ because nobody fucks with her friends, you'd still have the same 'that's sweet' reaction. I think it all goes back to when we were completely dependent on one another for survival, and you had to have your group. That's my theory. And I like my theory, it has some half-assed merit, so I'm sticking with it. _

_**FYI - Story Update**__: If you're reading Of Broken Noses, I was planning on getting the conclusion up__ tonight. But I have to tell you, it's been BRUTAL to write! And this is WITH the freaking happy ending that everybody wants. But, things were kind of a mess. And to quote Morgan Freeman, who I believe was quoting Milton, "l__ong is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light."__ So bottom line, it's not done yet. I have to keep taking a break from it, but it will be up tomorrow night. And you can all read it without fear. I did __not__ rip their little hearts out. Just my own writing it!_

_Next: __**"More Insignificant Others"**_


	59. More Insignificant Others

_Late July_

**More Insignificant Others**

"So how was your date?"

With a roll of his eyes, Hotch sat back on the bench next to Emily.

"It was awful."

Emily pulled her knee up so she could turn to face him

"You didn't have a good time?" She asked, her lips pursed in sympathy.

Hotch sighed.

"It was just so awkward. I haven't been on a date in, what? Twenty plus years." His gaze fell to the ground. "I just don't want to spend time with people that I don't know. I'm too old for that. If I'm going to spend time with somebody I'd rather know ahead of time that I'm going to enjoy myself. And you can stop giving me that look Prentiss, because I know how stupid that sounds."

Of course he knew it was stupid. It was contrary to pretty to the 'socialization' approach favored by pretty much the entire free world.

"Actually," Emily reached over rub Hotch's shoulder sympathetically, "I was giving you a completely different look. Because that doesn't sound stupid to me. I feel the same way. Hell," she snorted humorlessly, "at least you had a two decade break from all of this dating crap. My entire adult life has been a series of really awkward first dates and not much more." She frowned, "and when I say it like that, my life sounds _really_ pathetic."

Hotch patted her arm absentmindedly.

"You're not pathetic."

"Gee," she huffed, "thanks." Then they were silent for a minute before her eyebrow inched up.

"So if you didn't want to spend any time with this woman, then why did you agree to go out with her?"

Emily knew Dave had set him up on a blind date. Hotch had been divorced for five months, and separated for nine months before that. Given that at that point after the demise of _his _first marriage Dave had already been seeing the next, future ex-Mrs. Rossi, he'd decided Hotch needed to get out. Emily hadn't personally thought it was such a great idea. Not that she didn't _want _Hotch to have a pleasant evening out, she just didn't think that he would. She knew Hotch didn't like, well, people. And obviously Rossi was going to set him up with a person. Which, of course he had, and, as she'd suspected, Hotch had not enjoyed himself. But she was sorry for his sake that her presumption had been correct.

Hotch leaned back and put his arm around the bench.

"Dave made me feel guilty. She's in JAG, and her unit is getting deployed next week for a year long rotation in Iraq." He flicked his eyes over to Emily, "was I supposed to say, no, sorry I can't take two hours out of my life to have dinner with this woman before she ships out?"

Biting her lip to clamp down on the impending smile, Emily turned her head away. But unfortunately she didn't turn away quickly enough.

Hotch raised his eyebrow, "what's so funny?"

Swallowing Emily turned back, trying to hide her amusement, "you really don't know?"

Puzzled, Hotch just shook his head at her, and he looked so bewildered that she couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Dave was trying to get you LAID!"

"Prentiss!" Hotch glared at the two cadets running past that had just given them a strange look, "keep your voice down!" Then he looked back at her, his brow still knitted in confusion.

"And what are you talking about?"

Astounded that he still hadn't gotten it, Emily just shook her head at him.

"Come on Hotch, you just got divorced and he sets you up on a blind date with what I'm assuming was a very attractive woman that is leaving the country next week for an entire year! He was giving you a no strings attached one night stand!"

Hotch stared at the ground for a second thinking about what she'd just said, then he burst out, "son of a bitch! How did I not see that?"

Chuckling Emily patted his arm, "you're just out of practice," she paused, "so I'm assuming you didn't . . ."

They now had a pretty open relationship but she was at least trying to be a little delicate here.

Horrified, Hotch looked over at her.

"NO! God, I'd just MET the woman!"

Of course given that she was a 'Dave pick' she'd been quite attractive. Redhead, not usually his type but still, empirically speaking, she was very pretty. But Hotch had never had sex with any woman, or when he was younger, girl, that he hadn't at least had feelings for. Even that night he'd almost had sex with . . . he snorted to himself . . . Emily, the only reason he'd even really considered the idea was because he did care about her. But he did not pick up strange women in bars and bring them home.

Derek's lifestyle held absolutely no appeal to him.

Though in retrospect, that was really funny that Dave had tried so hard to get him laid and he hadn't even had a clue it was happening. But then another thought came to him and the levity kind of fell away. His brow furrowed as he turned back to Emily.

"Now I feel kind of guilty. I mean, if she was . . . you know . . . expecting, and all I did was walk her to her car."

Emily looked at him for a second . . . and then burst out laughing again.

"You are the only person I know that would feel guilty for NOT having sex!"

God, if she didn't know better she'd think he was Catholic!

He scowled at her.

"It's not funny, she's going to a war zone."

Huffing in exasperation, Emily slumped back against the back of the bench.

"No, it's not funny that she's going to a WAR zone! But I'm assuming that if she was _that_ good looking, then she'll have no problem finding some 'company' before she leaves town." Then . . . in the mood to bust his chops . . . her lip quirked up in a faint smirk.

"Even if you couldn't perform your patriotic duty I'm sure some other red blooded American male will step up."

"HEY!" Hotch shot back indignantly, "I didn't say I couldn't '_perform'_ my patriotic duty, I said I didn't want to!" He shot her a glare, "NOT the same thing."

Emily's lips twitched as she patted his arm contritely.

"I'm sorry," she cleared her throat, "you're right. Definitely NOT the same thing."

Even with the apology she could see he was still annoyed with her. She'd found in the past you really couldn't joke about things like that with guys.

They just didn't think it was funny.

And apparently Hotch . . . though in almost every other respect was _not_ a typical guy . . . was at least similar in this area. So she tried to think of something to make amends. After a second, she bumped his shoulder.

"Hey, do you want to go yell at another one of my ex-boyfriends?"

Immediately forgetting that he was pissed at her, Hotch looked over at Emily in concern.

"Is somebody else bothering you?"

But she shook her head.

"No, I broke up with this guy about six months ago. We haven't spoken since, but he was really mean to me! And I didn't have access to your superpowers then so I thought maybe now that I did you'd like to go reap the whirlwind for me."

Hotch's lips twitched at her last statement and then he sobered as he thought about what she'd said before that. He furrowed his brow.

"He was _mean_ to you. What did he say?"

She scowled, "I believe his parting shot was that 'no man would ever want to spend time with me until I learned to shut my damn mouth and just sit there and look pretty.'"

Hotch narrowed his eyebrows, "he actually _said _that to you?"

What an asshole! Well he'd just go and . . . wait. He couldn't go kick some guy's ass just for being mean to her! Not that he didn't deserve it . . . but he was an adult. Not to mention an FBI agent! He couldn't go around beating up all of her loser ex-boyfriends. Especially given it appeared to be a fairly lengthy list. But she knows all that. So why did she . . . and the light bulb went on.

Raising his eyebrow, he looked back at Emily, who was quirking her lip up at him.

"Are you still mad at me?"

His lips twitched.

"So this was all an exercise simply to distract me from my general annoyance with you a few moments ago?" At her nod, he continued, "so that guy doesn't even exist?" Sighing, she sat back against the bench, "no, sadly that really did happen. But I clocked him, so the whirlwind has already been reaped."

Rolling his eyes Hotch sat back next to her, "you know I probably would have stopped being mad at you in about three minutes anyway."

Emily smirked.

"Yeah but who has that kind of time."

With an amused huff, Hotch rubbed his hands down his face, "oh Prentiss, what am I going to do with you?" She eyeballed him, "well . . . you could come over my house this weekend and watch the Fellowship of the Rings." Hotch started to laugh into his hands, then he looked up and flashed her a dimple, "still working on those life goals, huh?" She nodded seriously, "I am." Then she poked him in the arm, "come on, it'll be fun. Please, for me," she flashed her puppy dog eyes, "for Prentiss."

Though she wasn't sure why he still only called her by her last name, once she got past her first couple months with the team where she thought it meant he just didn't like her, she actually had started to find it kind of amusing. And now that she knew, not only did he like her, he was genuinely quite fond of her, she found it _very_ amusing.

At this point she kind of figured it was probably more habit than anything else.

Hotch stared at her, debating, and debating some more, and then finally he groaned, "fine." Then he gave her a hard look, "but I have Jack until Sunday afternoon so it'll have to be after that."

"YAY!"

Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. And then suddenly remembering that they were in the quad, she quickly pulled back, a hot blush climbing her cheeks.

"Oops."

Glaring, Hotch shook his head at her, "oops indeed."

Emily gave him a sheepish grin. "I was caught up in the moment."

They actually were becoming more affectionate in private, mostly initiated by her of course, but the quad was most definitely NOT private. And barring her welcoming him home from his own year long stint in Iraq, she really needed to remember not to be _quite_ so demonstrative around the Academy lest she cause problems for both of them.

"Yeah," Hotch rolled his eyes, "that'll be a fine defense at my sexual harassment hearing."

Emily's lips twitched, "I am sorry. It won't happen again." Then she looked over at him still scowling at her and she smirked, "it's just that you're so damn cuddly sir."

Hotch's mouth quivered and then he snorted as he stood up.

"Come on, let's get out of here before you get 'caught up in the moment' again and end up getting arrested for public indecency."

Horrified, Emily jumped up, "I CAN'T BELIEVE JJ TOLD YOU THAT STORY!?"

Hotch slowly raised his eyebrow as he looked over suspiciously, "what story?"

Realizing then that he had NO idea what she was talking about, Emily's eyes snapped open in alarm.

SHIT!

"Uh, no story. Forget I said anything." She started to back away slowly, "you know we really should get back." And as Emily saw he was just about to open his mouth she turned and sprinted across the quad with the sound of Hotch's yelling following her across the green.

"PRENTISS! WAS THAT IN NEW ORLEANS!? PRENTISS GET BACK HERE!"

* * *

_A/N 2: This will most likely be the end of them seeing other people. Even if the other people are insignificant. The point of including these chapters was to show that they were 'real friends' and were comfortable talking with one another about things like that because they weren't, at this stage, interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with the other. And they still won't be for a few months yet. But they will start spending more and more time together and it will become obvious storyline wise that they are basically platonically dating and just don't realize it. _

_I'm debating writing the LOTR chapter. As the schedule goes right now, it's not in there and I'd have to write it like immediately because there's only one more chapter in July, and that's an episode based one for Paradise. Hmm, I don't know. Eh, if I can whip one up in the next twenty four hours then I'll put it up tomorrow. If not, then assume it'll be the one below._

_Hoping to post a couple more chapters tonight but I'm not 100%. Got some stuff to do :)_

_Next: __**"Clark & Lois"**_


	60. Clark & Lois

**Author's Note**: Seeing as I am definitely posting again tonight I figured I'd stagger things out a little and put this up early. And perhaps be nice to some of my readers who would otherwise be sleeping by the time I'd normally be posting on Girl :)

We're back in canon, my version, and this is the episode with Will Wheaton as the creepy motel owner. The 'Vacancy' homage. This is a post ep. The only other season 4 episode I'm including in the summer months is Catching Out, and that will go up in their August. Then for the following three months any cases they have will be solely coming out of my little brain. We'll pick up in canon again in November because that's when JJ has Henry.

Also, thanks to all my reviewers of late. I've been really, really busy the last couple days so unfortunately I haven't had a chance to get back to everyone yet but I wanted you to know, I'm working on it :) But please know, even if I don't get a chance to get back to you in anything approaching a timely fashion, it certainly doesn't mean I don't appreciate you taking the time to review. Because I most definitely do :)

* * *

_Episode – Paradise_

_Late July_

**Clark & Lois**

Emily worriedly eyed Hotch from her seat in the corner of the plane.

Everybody else had conked out almost immediately after takeoff. They'd been up for almost twenty hours. But Emily had accompanied the rape victim to the hospital, and as familiar as she was with the necessity of the evidence collection, she could not get past the knowledge that it was a violation unto itself. She kept replaying the process over and over in her head, and she was too wired to sleep just thinking about it.

And Hotch was . . . as always . . . working. But today the lines around his mouth were more pronounced. He seemed . . . sad. And she knew what that was from. Earlier, when she'd seen that terrible look he'd given her after he found out he'd already spoken to the UNSUB. God. She knew that he was in that controlled panic you experience when you realize you might have just royally fucked up. It was an inevitable part of the job. But it had hurt her to see him like that then, and it was worse watching him berate himself now.

Because really, he _hadn't_ screwed up!

That was the bitch of it. One man he talked to out of more than two dozen that day. He just didn't have superhuman powers, so he wasn't able to see through the mask of normality worn by the monster he had met for thirty seconds. And because of that, a husband had been tortured and a wife had been raped.

But the team had saved their lives, and in the end, that's what they had to remember. All the rest of it . . . well, that was just the shit they had to accept was going to happen sometimes if they were going to live on this side of the looking glass.

Usually Hotch was the one that gave that speech to the other members of the team. And it made them feel better . . . even though they knew it still didn't make it all right.

But who gave the speech to Hotch?

Emily had seen Rossi had tried to talk to him at the scene, but Hotch's eyes were glazed over and she didn't think he'd really been listening. She had been spending more time with him lately and it had recently come to the point that she realized she could read him better than anyone else could. After all, he had been partnering them up on every case since New York. Her presence seemed to help him focus, to relax.

He was starting to do the same thing for her.

And as she thought about that fact, she realized that she may have a new way to reach him now. A way that wouldn't have been available to her even a month earlier.

She picked the travel blanket up off her lap and carried it over to the table where Hotch sat alone.

Hotch didn't look up as Emily approached, he assumed she was going to the bathroom. So when she sat down next to him he turned to her a little surprised. He whispered so as not to wake the others.

"Do you need something, Prentiss?"

_'Because I really don't have much to offer anyone at the moment,'_ was the rest of that statement. But Hotch didn't say that part out loud.

With a sad smile, Emily shook her head.

"No," she whispered back.

Then she took the pen out of his hand and closed his file, cutting off his protest with another quiet, "no" and another shake of her head. He looked at her with no expression as she spread her blanket over both of their laps, leaning around him to tuck his edge against the seat. Then she gave him a small smile as she wound her fingers through his, before pulling their joined hands over and placing them on her thigh.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Hotch looked down at her in wonder for a moment, and then his expression softened and he tipped his head down to hers.

Emily smiled even as he heard her respirations begin to even out. And under the cover of a flannel and cotton blend, Hotch ran his thumb over the side of her hand. One last revelation came to him before he too closed his eyes.

_'This is why I need her near me.'_

Across the plane, Rossi was still awake and had been watching Emily and Hotch out of the corner of his eye. And he'd seen as Emily had deftly taken the reigns out of Hotch's hands to turn him off the dark path he was going down tonight.

Dave was proud of her for being able to do what he himself could not. She had connected with him, reminding him that there were benefits . . . and comforts . . . that come by being just human.

Most of the time Superman was really just Clark Kent, and Clark was only a man with a lot of problems who had a girl named Lois to try to help him along. Well Clark had his Lois, and Rossi was starting to see that maybe Hotch had his Prentiss.

Rossi watched as Emily in her sleep fisted her hand in Hotch's lapel, pulling him in to her tighter, firmer, closer.

Dave winked at her across the plane.

_Good girl, now don't let go._

* * *

_A/N 2: Funny story about the title, I totally forgot there was a TV show called "Lois & Clark" until Arc wrote back in her beta comments how clever that was that I flipped it. And I'm staring it like, 'huh, what is she talking about?' And then I remembered, Terri Hatcher, pre-botox. So even though that was kind of a goofy show, I still liked my title though. It worked for the whole little superhero/mortal identity theme I was working. And Batman didn't really have a regular girl and going with any superhero besides those 2 would be as they say on Seinfeld "lesser babka." Superman was really the only way to go._

_And that look Emily said Hotch gave her in the police station. He really did give her that look. If you watch that scene again, the moment he realizes he's already been to that motel, and spoken to that guy, he turns to look right at Emily and gives her this terrible look. Fictional character or not, I felt really bad for him. And of course the shipper in me liked that he sought her out for the emotional support at his 'oh fuck' moment. It shows a genuine closeness to their relationship off screen that we don't get to see. Don't forget, when JJ went into labor we stumbled into a scene of the two of them by themselves getting coffee together. That means they really do that outside my little 'verse :)_

_I had a request for the LOTR chapter, plus two for Emily's public indecency story. So I'm planning on writing both :) I pushed off their LOTR movie night on the supposition that it got pushed off for the case. I'll do that one next, and I have an idea on how to get Emily's little back story out in the near future. Not immediately, but shortly. So though it is not yet written the next one shall be called._

_Next: __**"Frodo Said What?"**_


	61. Frodo Says What?

**Author's Note**: Hot off the press! Just whipped it up today. To the expense of writing anything else so this is the only story being updated until tomorrow.

And this one is for Arc because she specifically requested that we see them go to the shire :)

Also, as I pushed off movie night because of the last case, we're now in August. Lots o'stuff happening in August, at least 12 chapters for this month, couple of story arcs. And it's obvious now they're much cozier. All their growing pains are 'growed out' :)

* * *

_Early August  
_

**Frodo Said What?**

"Can you stop it?"

Hotch hit the pause button, but not before shooting Emily a nasty glare.

"I KNOW!" Emily shrugged sheepishly as she stood up, "I already _know_ that you told me NOT to drink a thirty two ounce Big Gulp before we had the Chinese." She tipped her head, "and in retrospect I can see how finishing it off before we even put in the movie was a bad idea." She pursed her lips "as was perhaps the glass of water I had with the meal, and then well, there was the beer." Looking up, she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"But you still love me right?"

He sighed dramatically.

"Just go Prentiss. Go now before I have you transferred to Juneau." At her responding smirk, he shook his head. "I'll heat up the lo mein while you're gone."

She flashed him a grin before running for the bathroom like a wind sprinter.

Hotch's lips twitched as he watched her go.

This was the fourth time they'd had to stop the movie for her to go to the bathroom. They'd barely gotten out of the Shire! Hopefully with this one she'd be all tapped out for awhile. He rolled his eyes as he gathered up the container of chicken lo mein to go put in her microwave. He'd already been there for over an hour and he was pretty sure there were at least four hours left on this film. Or at least there would be with all of Emily's 'intermissions.'

He slid the plastic container into the microwave, staring at the buttons for a second figuring out how it worked.

Why did all microwaves have to include seventeen buttons that you were never going to use? Seriously, who's cooking a pot roast in this thing? And would you really want to have dinner at that person's house if they _were_?

Finally his eyes hit on Time Cook and Start.

Thank you! That's all he wanted. That's all ANYONE wanted! For God's sake you were either warming coffee, heating up leftovers or making popcorn. Actually . . . he nodded to himself as the plate started whirring around . . . they should just put those three buttons on the front and that would be more than sufficient.

While the food was reheating, Hotch crossed over to the fridge and grabbed another beer out of the case of Sam that he'd brought. It was his second one, but he knew was there for at least another few hours. Plus they were eating enough food for an army.

It would certainly sop up any excess alcohol.

Emily had already had one of the beers, on top of the Big Gulp that she'd bought on impulse when she went out to buy two bags of potato chips before he got there. How she'd decided that chips were the necessary side dish to go with the Chinese takeout he was picking up on his way over, he did not know.

As it was he was shocked at the amount of food the guy at the counter had handed him. Emily had called in the order at her favorite Chinese place for a four pm pick up and he told her he'd get it on his way. She'd already prepaid on the phone so he had no idea how much it all cost, but there was definitely at least fifty bucks worth of food. Fortunately it was really good food, but he'd thought she'd be eating leftovers for a week. But the way they were plowing through it he wouldn't be surprised if the only thing she had left tomorrow were the eggrolls they got complimentary. Neither of them cared much for them.

Hearing the bathroom door open, almost simultaneous with the microwave dinging, Hotch looked up to give Emily a good natured eye roll.

Emily smirked at Hotch's expression before he turned to get the leftovers out of the microwave.

Though actually . . . she frowned . . . were they still leftovers if you were technically still in the middle of the meal? Her lips pursed in a faint pout as she considered the question.

Well, once you've already eaten a course of anything then by definition any food still on the table was 'leftover,' so yes . . . she nodded firmly . . . they could most definitely be considered leftovers.

Holding the hot container by the edges, Hotch turned back around to Emily. And seeing how she was staring at him, his eyebrow inched up.

"Why do have that funny look on your face?"

With a cheerful smile, Emily walked over.

"I was debating to myself whether the food you were removing from the microwave counted as leftovers or not."

Hotch's lips twitched as he cleared his throat, "and the verdict." She gave a firm nod as she reached into the fridge to grab a beer, "yes, yes they do."

"Good to know," he responded with a tip of his head, while trying to hide his amused smirk.

He loved listening to her inner monologue. The more time they spent together the less she censored anything she was thinking. Now she'd answer the 'what are you thinking' question honestly regardless of how trivial, or well, ridiculous, the thoughts were.

For instance on Friday, she'd been staring at two people talking in the quad so he'd nudged her arm, presuming she was going to say that she knew one of them. No. She told him she'd been considering whether squirrels considered commute time before they went looking for lunch.

It was so ridiculous that he'd actually burst out laughing as he asked her what the hell she was talking about. Then she very logically pointed out that they didn't have any big trees in the quad for the squirrels to live in, yet the place was lousy with them. So therefore they were all hiking a good distance from the woods 'off yonder,' her term, and she wondered whether they realized with the amount of energy they were burning off coming over here it might not just be better to go foraging closer to home.

He'd stared at her for a second, and then God help him, he'd actually responded to that ridiculous statement! He'd pointed out that the quality of food left behind by the people having lunch had to outpace any nuts they were going to find on the forest floor so it was probably worth the effort regardless of the distance traveled. Then he'd taken a sip of his coffee before he'd realized what he'd said. Two seconds later he'd looked up, horrified at the realization of what he'd done, to find her grinning like an idiot. He shot her the best glare he had in the arsenal and told her if she ever told anyone he'd just discussed squirrel commuting with her that he'd make her work Victimology for a month.

They both knew it was an empty threat.

As it was, he hardly went anywhere without her now, so if he stuck her in the precinct that meant he was stuck there too. But still, for his pride, she'd made an effort to mask her quivering jaw as she nodded firmly with an "understood sir."

The sir was undermined by the giggle that followed it.

He refocused in on her current activities as he watched her try to twist off a pop off beer bottle lid. The first beer, he'd opened for her in the kitchen. And in her defense, the last time they'd had Sam . . . at Dave's 4th of July cook out . . . it was a twist off bottle. And he was just about tell her to get the bottle opener, when he saw her hand slip.

Shit.

"MOTHER . . ."

The rest of the curse was cut off as Emily clamped down on her lip. Hotch immediately dropped the food on the counter as he hurried over to see how badly she'd cut her hand.

"Let me see it."

With her teeth digging painfully into her lip, Emily held her hand out as Hotch requested.

God why was she always such an IDIOT? She was always banging into something or cutting herself on something else. Things that other, normal, people were able to traverse with ease always posed a hazard for her. She winced as Hotch gently ran his finger around her palm, palpating the skin to see if it was going to bleed.

It was.

Not a lot but she had cut the skin. She shook her head while muttering to herself, "I'm such a freaking moron."

Hotch frowned at her before he ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her other hand.

"You're not a moron. I don't like to hear you say that. You get too down on yourself sometimes."

Emily sighed as she looked down at the spreading crescent of blood in the center of her palm.

"What else can you call somebody who can't even open a bottle without causing themselves personal injury?"

He cupped her jaw with his palm as he caught her eyes, "you're human. That's it. That's the end of the descriptive terms needed here, okay?" She nodded dejectedly as guided her over to the sink so she could wash her hand. Then he went into the bathroom to find a band aid. He opened the medicine cabinet.

Lots of expired cough medicine. Okay, she didn't even live here in 2003. Did she actually pack that up and move with it? Then he shook his head.

Not the time Aaron.

His eyes went back to scanning the shelves. Then, finally, he saw a lone band aid tucked behind the mouthwash. He slipped it out and went back to the kitchen where she was just tossing a wet paper towel in the trash.

She held her hand out as he unwrapped the band aid before placing it on the center of her cut. It just covered it. Then he gathered up the little wrapping bits to throw in the trash.

"You're out of band aids, you know?"

She nodded, "I know." Then she rolled her eyes as she said scornfully, "I tend to go through a box rather quickly. I really should start buying in bulk."

A shadow of a smile crossed Hotch's lips before he patted her arm.

"Go sit down. I'll open your beer for you," then he gave her a mock scowl, "though I was planning on cutting you off from all liquids for the rest of the evening."

Her lips twitched, she was waiting for him to take another shot at all her bathroom breaks.

"Perhaps if you had then I wouldn't have cut myself."

He raised his eyebrow in amusement. "So essentially what you're saying is that your injury is my fault?" She nodded, "yes, I think that is what I'm saying." He looked at her for a second, his eyes twinkling, "well then, I guess I owe you an apology."

"I guess you do."

He took a breath, "I'm really sorry Prentiss. I hope you can forgive me."

She tipped her head at him, "I suppose I can let it go. But please, try to be more careful next time."

They stared at each other for a second before Hotch's mouth quivered and Emily grinned as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around his neck. He leaned down and hugged her to his chest, "you feel better now?"

Nodding she stepped back and gave him a little smile, "I do. Thanks."

It was kind of amazing how good Hotch was at cheering her up when she was down on herself. And she knew he was right, she did have a little problem in that area. But awareness was the first step to resolving the problem. She wasn't quite sure what the second step was but that was a thought for another day. So in the meantime, she just grabbed the lo mein off the counter and headed back to the living room dropped back down on the couch.

A moment later Hotch came in carrying both of their beers. After he sat down, he scooped a little of the lo mein on her plate and dropped the last crab rangoon on top of it. She looked down at it for a second and then turned to give him a soft smile.

"Thanks."

Those were his favorite.

With a dismissive shrug, Hotch picked up the remote and hit play again.

"Well, it is my fault you cut your hand so you can have the last one." She smiled as she took a bite of it. Hotch quirked up his lip at her before leaning over to grab some lo mein for himself. Then they settled back to watch the movie . . . again.

Fortunately he knew the plot from the books, otherwise stopping four times in the first sixty-five minutes would have been somewhat disruptive to the flow of the scenes. It was still disruptive, but he knew what was going on.

Forty minutes later he flicked his eyes over to see Emily was watching the screen with rapt attention. His eyes crinkled.

Though he knew that she'd seen this movie, (the long version), at least four times already, that wasn't diminishing her enthusiasm. And he had to admit, it was an excellent adaptation, even if they did cut a couple things out from the book.

A few minutes later he felt her shifting around and he picked up the remote. And without even looking at her, pressed pause again.

"Go."

She planted a kiss on his cheek before she jumped up and ran for the bathroom again. He huffed as he reached up to wipe away the lipstick. He looked down at his hand.

Just a faint bit of brown. Apparently she'd wiped off most of it while they were eating. Emily was very openly expressive with her feelings. She was actually like Jack in that respect. There was no artifice. If she was happy there was a smile, a hug, a kiss.

He found it sweet.

Especially given what a hard ass she was at work. But if they were alone she was now a totally different person. Well, not totally different, all the good Emily stuff was still there, but all the armor that he'd also had to tear through to reach her in the past, that was all gone now. And he felt kind of honored that she trusted him enough to be just herself with him. Though he supposed he'd also reached that point with her. God knows he didn't joke around with anyone else in the office. So they were definitely on an even footing in their relationship. They were becoming good friends.

Just then he heard the bathroom door open, and a second later she plopped back down onto the couch. Then she looked over quizzically.

"How is it that you haven't gone to the bathroom once and I've gone to the bathroom five times?"

He just looked at her, "you're a girl." Then he hit play on the movie again.

She huffed and then pulled her legs up as she scooted over to place her head on his shoulder. His gaze shifted over and down.

"You huff scornfully at me and still expect to be able to use me as a pillow."

Still with her head on him, she nodded, "I do. My general disbelief at the ridiculousness of your statement in no way decreases the relative degree of comfort I've discovered I've derived from this position over the past few weeks."

She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder a few times since that awful case out in Nevada and she'd found she always rested comfortably that way. Their heights were just right so she suffered no neck strain. Plus, he smelled good.

He stared at her for a second and then snorted before turning back to the film.

They finished the rest of the movie in that position, and when he furrowed his brow at the ending, he dipped his head down to her to ask her, "where's the rest of it?" She laughed.

"The rest of it is in the next movie." She smiled, "actually the next one is my favorite of the three. You want to stay and watch that one now too?"

Though she'd had to drag him to the movie today, she very deliberately threw in the 'now' for the next one. Because she knew there was no question that he'd be back to see the rest of them.

Hotch looked down at his watch . . . it was a little after eight. He looked over at her.

"How long is the next one?"

"Mmm," Emily wrinkled her nose, "maybe four hours."

With a faint sigh, Hotch tipped his head over to rest against hers.

"Well then it's too late now to start watching it. Even without your regularly scheduled interruptions we wouldn't be done until well after midnight." Then he added drolly, "and _with _your interruptions I'm thinking this is going to clock in at around six . . . "

The rest of his sentence was cut off in a grunt . . . Emily had just given him a sharp smack in the stomach.

Smirking she looked up at him, "you're getting a little soft sir. I thought you could take a punch better than that?"

His mouth dropped open.

"I was _mid_-sentence Prentiss!" he responded incredulously, "using oxygen for both breathing _and _talking and you aimed right for my diaphragm!"

Her lips twitched.

It was true . . . she had aimed right for his diaphragm. Then she patted his arm contritely as she took a breath.

"Well, I think the next one is at least two discs so we could watch one now and the rest of it next Sunday."

Feeling his mood shift, his lips curved in a soft smile.

"You want me to come back next Sunday?"

She nodded, "yes I do." Then she grinned, "and you can bring pizza."

Hotch snorted . . . and then laughed out loud.

"Okay," he shot her an amused look, "we can watch one more disc now and the rest next week." He rolled his eyes, "I already feel like it cut off in the middle anyway so I can't imagine stopping it will make a lot of difference." He furrowed his brow as he looked at her, "they actually released these a year apart didn't they?" At her nod, he shook his head.

"That's ridiculous."

Nodding her agreement to Hotch's huff, Emily pushed herself up to go change out the disc.

"Yeah, it was more ridiculous because they filmed all three of them at the same time. I mean I know it took a few years to do it but basically all three movies were almost totally shot by the time they even released the first one in the theaters." Sighing she popped the first disc out and put in the next one, "but I suppose they made more money releasing them the way they did." She looked over at him.

"You want another drink?"

"Yeah," Hotch nodded as he stood up, "but just water. I'll get it."

After he got back out to the kitchen, Hotch noted with amusement the two unopened bags of potato chips still sitting on the counter. The reason she got the Big Gulp, and the reason they had to stop the movie every thirty five minutes, was sitting there mocking him. He shook his head and then closed his eyes as he tried to picture Emily taking down a glass earlier.

Third cabinet over . . . bottom shelf. He turned and opened the door to the third cabinet and there they were.

Sometimes law enforcement training did have practical applications in real life as well.

And then sighing even as he did it, he got Emily water too. But he knew she was thirsty from all the sodium in the Chinese food. That's why she couldn't stop drinking even though she'd already consumed enough liquids to keep a camel going for a week in the desert. Shaking his head he went back over to the couch, settling in next to her.

Emily took the glass from Hotch with a grateful smile.

She was really thirsty. And she knew she was driving him nuts stopping the movie so often, but still he got her another drink without asking. In thanks she'd have to remember to restrict all liquids before he arrived next week. Granted she usually did have to stop the extended version at least once to go to the bathroom, but this was getting a little ridiculous. Stupid tantalizing Big Gulp. And that was probably more caffeine than she needed to drink in that short a sitting either.

Just then she noticed that the sun was going down and the shadows were spreading across the living room. She patted Hotch's arm, "would you put on that lamp please?" He clicked the switch and a warm glow spread out, cutting off the encroaching darkness. She curled up next to him again, putting her head back on his shoulder, "thank you."

He didn't look at her as he said softly, "you're welcome," and started the next movie.

/*/*/*/*

Hotch woke up to Emily murmuring on his shoulder.

He blinked, trying to focus on what she was saying to see if she was having a nightmare. He listened for a few seconds, then his eyes crinkled, she was dreaming about hobbits. He checked his watch. God damn! It was almost three! What time had they fallen asleep? They got through the first disc and saw it was barely ten, so they decided to watch a little of the next one before they called it a night. He remembered it being 11:30 and thinking he should probably get going. That's the last time he specifically remembered checking the time. He rubbed his hand down his face.

Crap. They had to get up in like three hours to go to work.

He looked over at Emily again, figuring he'd let her sleep on the couch and get her a blanket before he left. But the moment he tried to get up, her eyes popped open.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was scratchy.

"I have to go home. We fell asleep. It's really late."

She shifted her gaze over to the cable box to see the time. Her eyes widened, "wow, it is late." Then she shook her head as she yawned, "it's too late for you to go home. You're half asleep, you'll get in an accident." She patted his leg, "get up. You can sleep in the guest room."

After looking at her for a second, Hotch saw the wisdom in her assessment of the situation.

"Okay," he nodded, "that sounds good."

Fortunately he always had his bag in the car, and he really didn't have any desire at all to take a thirty minute drive in the dead of night. So with that point decided, he stood up and then turned back to pull Emily to her feet as well. Then he went off to check the locks.

After stifling another yawn, Emily looked around the living room to see if she needed to do anything before she went to bed.

Fortunately they'd put the food away and dumped the trash before they put in the second disc. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she saw Hotch was already halfway down the front hall going to check the deadbolt. So she just went and pulled the drapes before turning off the DVD player and the television. It had defaulted back to the menu screen. She stared at the cover of the DVD box for a second before she furrowed her brow and turned to look at Hotch. He was standing at the foot of the staircase.

"I was dreaming about Frodo."

His lip quirked up.

"I know I heard you. That's what woke me up."

She started laughing as she walked over to him, "really? What did I say?"

As he thought back he began chuckling, "Frodo was telling you to go back to the Shire and you were arguing with him." He ran through the rest of what she'd mumbled and then he bent over as he started laughing harder, "actually I think you were Sam!"

Horrified, Emily looked over at him, "I dreamt I was a FAT hobbit!?"

Looking back up at her, he wiped the tears off his face as he tried to stop laughing.

"Yeah," he snorted, "apparently you did!"

She looked down at herself and then over her shoulder to see her ass. Then she looked over at him worriedly, "I'm not fat right?"

Hotch's eyes popped open in surprise.

"WHAT?! NO! Prentiss it was a dream!" He responded incredulously.

Feeling a faint pout forming, Emily frowned back.

"I know but sometimes your dreams are like your subconscious telling you stuff. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me to put down the fried rice."

He snorted, "Prentiss, do you think your subconscious is also telling you that you're three feet tall?" She furrowed her brow, "okay, maybe you have a point."

Simultaneously shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Hotch turned and started heading up the stairs. Emily looked after him for a second and then ran up the stairs, catching his fingers in hers.

"So did you like the movie?" She asked excitedly.

He stopped mid step to look down at her, "do you think maybe we could talk about it when it's not three o'clock in the morning?"

She frowned, "but we're awake."

Ignoring the face Emily was giving him, he tugged her hand.

"Hopefully not for long. Come on."

They took two more steps before he heard a dejected sigh and he stopped yet again. He stared down at the carpet for two beats before he flicked his eyes over to see the pout she was directing at her bare feet.

She only made that face when she was genuinely unhappy. And it took so little to make her happy. Then he rolled his eyes as his own crankiness.

All she wanted to know is if he liked the movie. Why couldn't he just answer her question? Why did he always have to be difficult? He squeezed her hand as he said softly.

"Yes, I liked the movie. I liked all the casting. Viggo Mortensen and Elijah Wood were great choices for the leads. I thought the special effects were amazing, as were the backdrops of New Zealand. And I thought the battle sequences were incredibly realistic given how much of it is computer generated. And I'm very much looking forward to seeing the rest of it next weekend."

She slowly brought her eyes up from the ground, gracing him with a sweet smile before she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

_A/N 2: So given I was planning on whipping out a quick little ficlet, I'm fairly impressed I ended up with a 4000 plus word chapter. If you don't write yourself, trust me, that's a lot of words! _

_And you can see, I was trying to start working in some of their 'issues' that they need to work on, and are making an effort to do so because of the other one. _

_What's funny here is that chapter title popped into my head yesterday and it wasn't until I got to the very end of this one that I realized 'oh, I didn't tie in Frodo Said What!' So if you liked the hobbit dream, thank my subconscious who came up with the title that I had to work in._

_I personally really like the next chapter. It's the first of a three chapter arc. Another of Em's 'issues' will play a prominent role. Then we've got some drama and some relationship building coming up. And please, as we're going along, if I mention something in a chapter that you want to see, let me know. People do give me good ideas for stuff I might not write otherwise. Like this one :) And the public indecency back story will be coming along this month as well.  
_

_Next: __**"History, Repeating"**_


	62. History, Repeating

**Author's Note**: I'm glad so many of you enjoyed the squirrel commute :)

_**Prompt Announcement**_. Kavi put up the new ones today, you can check them out on the forum. Also, I saw we have another new participant on the challenges, IrigD. Haven't read her stories yet but I'm sure they're fabulous :) She already wrote one for the new prompts! And welcome to any other new authors if I've missed them. I am woefully behind on reading basically everything. But I'm really so pleased this is catching on. I've been writing stories I never would have thought to do without the Challenge. So it's been a lot of fun trying out new stuff for me personally, and it definitely seems to be making a creative impression for others as well. Which was our hope in opening this up to everyone :)

We went slightly angstier on our picks this week. Though you are of course not obligated to write something angsty, you should write whatever your little hearts desire. I'll actually be pretty impressed if you can get lighter fare out of the new ones. And just as a side note, the Golden Girls one I picked in honor of Bea Arthur. Awesome lady.

*******************************************

_Early – August_

**History, Repeating**

Hotch watched Emily out of the corner of his eye. She'd been sitting quietly on the bench next to him for the last five minutes. She'd hardly said a word since they'd left the office. She seemed sad but he hadn't wanted to ask her about it until they were away from the Academy. So once they'd grabbed their coffee he'd taken her a little off their usual path and walked the fifteen minutes down the street to city hall. They settled in on a bench in the shade in the small grassy patch out in front of the municipal building. He figured she'd start talking once they were away from the office, but still, nothing. She'd even lost interest in her mocha. It was just sitting on the bench. He put his own cup on the ground and then nudged her arm.

"What's the matter?"

She just shook her head and turned slightly away from him. He furrowed his brow, well that wasn't like her. They'd been spending personal time together pretty much every day, work days at least, for almost two months. She had told him about ex-boyfriends and her parents and a disastrous perm she'd had when she was twenty seven. He knew the last one was a major sign of trust, so why would she be so reticent about telling him what was wrong now?

Unless . . . maybe it was something he did. Though he couldn't recall doing anything that would have upset her this much. But it certainly wouldn't have been the first time a woman was mad at him and he hadn't picked up on it. Though she didn't really seem mad, she seemed sad. And if she was sad that meant he'd done something to hurt her, and he was pretty sure he would have picked up on _that_. He rolled his eyes, but maybe not. Profiler or not, he knew he could be a bit oblivious when it came to the opposite sex. Well, either way, might as well start trying to narrow this down. At least if he was the problem then he could apologize for whatever he did and maybe she'd feel better. Because it was really bothering him seeing her like this. She was usually so cheerful. Seeing her sad was just . . . not right. He tipped his head towards her.

"Did _I_ do something?"

She shook her head again, but this time Hotch could see her eyes were watering and that just made his chest hurt. Figuring they were far enough away from the office, and in a secluded enough spot, he reached over and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his chest. She resisted for a second before relaxing slightly. But she still kept her body wrapped tightly in on itself.

Leaning down he whispered, "if you tell me what's wrong you might feel better."

She blinked a couple times and then responded in a pitiable tone, "you'll just think I'm being stupid."

Frowning he rubbed her shoulder, "hey, I would never think that you were stupid. And I would _certainly_ never think that about anything that that could get you this upset. If it's important to you . . . then it's important to me."

Relaxing slightly, Emily leaned her head on his chest, trying to decide if she should tell him. It _was_ stupid. She knew it was stupid. But that didn't change the fact that it also had hurt her feelings. And the fact that she was so upset about it probably bothered her as much as the original problem. Because she felt like she should be too old for things like this to still upset her. It seemed childish. Then she felt Hotch's hand run down her arm and she decided then, she did want to tell him. She cleared her throat.

"You promise you won't laugh at me?"

Hotch patted her arm, "I promise."

"Morgan and Garcia are throwing a party and they didn't invite me."

Okay, well, he wasn't sure what he thought she was going to say but that was not it. Though, as he thought back to her early days in the BAU he remembered a few times where she looked hurt when those two would talk about something they'd done on the weekend. But that was a long time ago. He was surprised they would exclude her from anything now. Biting his lip he looked down at her so miserable tucked against his side. But whatever the reason was that they did it, it didn't surprise him that it would hurt her feelings. She wasn't always quite as self confident as she appeared. He knew that she thought her 'geeky tendencies,' her term, not his, made her kind of an outcast. He had a feeling that had been an actual problem when she was a kid, and it was still a tender spot now.

He put his chin on her head, "maybe they just haven't invited you yet."

Shaking her head she felt a tear leak down her cheek, "no, I heard them asking JJ last week, and Reid a couple days ago. And I . . . and I . . ." she sniffled, "I just assumed they'd get around to me eventually, but it's tomorrow and I saw both of them this morning in the break room and neither one of them said anything." She felt another tear run down her face, "and I know it's really, really stupid that it's bothering me so much because we're not in high school but . . .," her voice cracked, "it still really hurt." Reaching up she wiped her face, "I mean did I do something? Are they mad at me? And if they are why didn't they just say something? They didn't have to do this."

Feeling the wet spot forming on his shirt Hotch actually wanted to kill Derek for a minute. Kill him dead. Fortunately that urge passed quickly, but he was still royally pissed off. What the hell was wrong with them? They invited the other two and not her? And if they invited JJ that meant Will was invited by default. So frigging Will gets invited to this, whatever, and Emily doesn't?

He knew she'd kill him if he said anything to Derek but he had never wanted to pull him into his office to ream him out for anything more in his life. And that included the time he rigged Reid's chair to drop and it dumped him on the ground, knocking him unconscious for almost a minute. And he thought he was pissed off then, that was nothing to how angry he was now. And the worst part was, he couldn't figure it out either. Why wouldn't they invite her? He hadn't been picking up on any team strife. Not any more than their usual bickering. But that was all, well, mostly, good natured. This was just mean. And at best, just plain thoughtless. But you'd think Derek, at least, studying freaking behavior for a living would have picked up on that. And even if they were peeved at her about something, he couldn't understand them being quite so cruel. He rubbed Emily's back.

"Prentiss I'm sure it's probably just some misunderstanding." Of course once that was out of his mouth he couldn't think of one plausible misunderstanding to pass along so instead he tried to think of something to say to cheer her up.

"If it makes you feel any better I wasn't invited either."

Emily huffed against his chest, "thanks sir." Then she sighed, "oh well, I guess I just need to get over it. It's just . . ." and she trailed off. Realizing she was about to tell him something really personal from her adolescent years. She'd told Hotch a lot of things but she'd never told anyone about this. This was just humiliating.

Hotch squeezed her arm, "what?"

Emily was silent for almost a minute and then she said quietly, "this just used to happen all the time when we moved. I was always the new girl and I was, um, kind of geeky and the kids didn't usually warm up to me right away. So, I uh, never got invited to go to the cool kids parties." She paused for a second, "I just feel like I'm fifteen again and nobody likes me."

Hotch was quiet for a minute as he ran his hand slowly up and down her arm. Then he said quietly, "I wasn't very popular in high school either."

Emily sniffled as she sat up a little, "really? I thought you mentioned once that you were on the baseball team. Isn't being a high school athlete like the fast track to being a cool kid?"

She had always wished she could have played a sport. She thought that might have helped her settle in faster.

Looking down Hotch gave her a little smile, "perhaps, but I wasn't really that good. The star players are the popular ones and uh," his voice dropped, "also I was kind of a quiet kid."

Those two little innocuous sentences were the most he'd ever told anybody about his teen years. Even Haley didn't know anything beyond the name of his high school. Not that she hadn't tried. But after a couple years of him changing the subject, she'd simply learned not to ask anymore.

Emily didn't say anything. Beyond that passing mention one day about playing baseball, she'd never heard Hotch say anything about his life before college. And the more time they spent together, the more conspicuous that was. That, in conjunction with his generally melancholy nature, and his awful temper, was all conspiring to paint some very ugly pictures in her head. Things that hurt her to think about him going through. She patted his stomach, knowing that was a big deal that he had just shared as much as he had. All because he wanted her to feel better. She figured she'd share one more humiliating memory as thanks.

She mumbled against his chest, "sometimes my mom would offer to throw a party at the embassy when we first got there. But I always told her no. I mean, I know she meant well, but can you imagine how much bigger an outcast I would have been?"

As rhetorical questions went, that was a doozy, so in response Hotch just continued running his fingers up and down her arm. Trying to soothe over the old wounds which clearly were still so raw.

And tomorrow he was taking Morgan to the gym under the pretext of sparring practice. Hotch was going to kick his ass for making her cry.

He knew they should be getting back, but he didn't have any meetings scheduled. And God knows between the two of them they probably put in fifty five and seventy five hours respectively on an average week. They were owed a few minutes, weeks really, but he'd just take the minutes for now.

Emily was surprised Hotch wasn't getting antsy to go back to the office. She appreciated him just being nice and sitting with her though. She'd been miserable at her desk all morning, and the worst thing was she couldn't even let anyone see it. She'd called up years of diplomatic training and slapped a polite smile on her face. It wasn't until Hotch asked her for coffee this afternoon, and she was alone with him that she allowed her mask to slip. She no longer felt the need to put up any false pretenses with him. She was pretty sure he'd see right through them anyway.

Sitting up she turned to him, "do I have mascara on my face?"

Hotch ran his thumb along the corner of her left eye and then gave her a dimple, "nope." Her eyes crinkled and she stared at him for a moment, "you were right, you know?" At his questioning look she explained, "I do feel better just because I told you," she gave him a soft smile, "thanks."

His eyes crinkled, "you're welcome. So next time you're upset you remember that and you come to me first. And then you won't have to be sad all day," he quirked up his lip, "okay?"

She smiled, "okay."

They gathered up their still half full coffee cups and dumped them in the trash before they walked back to the office. They ran into Garcia in the elevator. Emily tried to be nice. Hotch didn't. And Penelope took off at a run as soon as the doors opened. Well, not quite run, she was wearing pumps, but she was moving pretty fast. Emily chuckled as she looked over at Hotch.

"You didn't have to do that."

He just winked as he put his hand up to hold the door open.

"After you Prentiss."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: There is of course an explanation for Emily's slight. And Hotch's too for that matter. You'll notice he said he wasn't invited either. Any guesses? Either way, all shall be revealed tomorrow. As I said yesterday, this is the first of a three chapter mini arc. _

_The main point of the chapter was delving into her ongoing insecurities starting from childhood. And I think that falls with canon, originally with Fear & Loathing, and more recently with what we learned about her teen years in Demonology. I touched on some of this in chapter 13, "Getting to Sesame Street." Personally, even as I get older I'm still sometimes surprised, and annoyed, at the stupid things that can still hurt your feelings. Because there is a certain point where you think you should be too old to care, and yet you still do. _

_The secondary point here was to show how they're starting to pair off into an 'us' and 'them' mentality. Which you always do, even in a group setting with other friends. Or family for that matter. It's not possible to be equally as close with everyone you care about, you do choose sides. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not._

_And in reference to the title of the next chapter, I want to assure any Spanish speaking readers, I do know this is NOT real Spanish. This is Garcia's version of Spanish :)_

_Next: __**"El Fabulouso Fiesto"**_


	63. El Fabulouso Fiesto

**Author's Note**: Second chapter in the 'dork angst' arc. TFM coined the phrase for me :) I said, who knew that was a real thematic subset? But it definitely does work for Emily's issues.

And again, I do know, it's not real Spanish!

* * *

_Early – August_

**El Fabulouso Fiesto**

Penelope skidded down the hall to her cave as fast as her little legs could carry her in her half price, knock off, strapless, two inch heels. Frantically sifting through her brain trying to remember what she'd done lately that could have pissed off the boss man. Because he was M-A-D! And it clearly was directed at her, because Em wasn't getting The Hell Fire Glare.

And The Hell Fire Glare was SCARY!

Just thinking about it made her eyes water. The only time she'd ever received it before was when Hotch found out that she'd helped Morgan take the bolts out of Reid's chair. Which in retrospect had turned out to be a really bad call on her part because they'd almost killed him. As it was she was pretty sure he couldn't read Latin backwards any more. Not that she felt that was a useful skill, but still, they'd like broken his brain and that's not cool! So now she was trying to think if Morgan could have gotten her in any other trouble recently.

She scrunched up her face as she thought back . . . no . . . nothing there.

What about Kevin? He'd been hanging around a little bit, but Hotch said that was okay if she wasn't busy. But either way she'd tell him to keep his distance until she figured out what was up. Because if Hotch was this pissed at her now, then he could very well have Kevin incinerated on sight. Not that those cheap ass Hawaiian shirts of his would burn. She was pretty sure they were made of asbestos, but still, if Hotch wanted him to burst into flames, he'd make it happen.

"Hey Baby Girl?"

Garcia looked up at Derek poked his head into her office.

"What's up sugar?"

He furrowed his brow.

"Did you ask Em if she was bringing anything tomorrow?"

"I didn't talk to Emily," Garcia responded with a bewildered frown. But then she gave him a hard look, "YOU were going to talk to Emily, Derek."

Grrr.

Confused, Derek stepped into her office, "I was?"

Garcia flipped a Stewie pen at him.

"Yes, you big dummy! You said you wanted to talk to her because you liked that weird beer she brought to the Cinco De Mayo thingy and you were going to ask if she could get some more." She rolled her eyes, "did you not even tell her about the party?"

"Uhhhhh." Morgan tried to conceal his look of panic.

With a dramatic sigh, Penelope dropped her head to her chest.

"I can't even look at you," she mumbled into her breasts, "j ust go. Go now and don't return until you have made sure my girl is attending el fabulouso fiesto we have planned. It's no party without my Emily."

After a brief huff at Garcia's antics . . . antics were the one thing Garcia had in spades . . . Morgan took off to find Em.

He found her in the bullpen.

And given that she wasn't there when he left a moment ago, she must have just returned from wherever it was she'd been for the past hour. So he went over and sat on the corner of her desk.

"Hey Em?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Emily looked up with a polite smile.

"Yeah."

The "yeah" was slightly clipped.

"Uh," Derek started sheepishly, "I'm, uh having a party tomorrow night, and I thought Garcia had told you about it, but apparently I said _I_ was gonna do it and then I kinda forgot I had said that." Cringing slightly he shrugged, "so, sorry for the late notice but I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

Emily just stared at him. At first she was just so relieved that he hadn't done it on purpose she could have kissed him. But then it sunk in what he'd said. He forgot. He forgot all about her. He sits across the desk from her for twelve hours a day and he FORGOT about her. Yeah, she got that it was an accident, which made it infinitely better than what she'd thought had happened, but still, that was kind of sucky. He didn't forget Reid or JJ, he forgot her. But wait . . . maybe she wasn't the only one he forgot. Hotch said he wasn't invited either. She cocked her head to the side.

"Who's going?"

Derek looked up to the ceiling as he tried to remember, "um, well, Garcia, Kevin, the B Team, couple people from CTU, some guys from HRT, the girls from fingerprinting, some of Kevin and Garcia's tech friends, then JJ, Will, Reid, and Dave." He grinned, "and hopefully you."

She furrowed her brow, "what about Hotch?"

Perplexed, Derek tipped his head to the side, "what about Hotch?"

"Is he coming? Because it sounds like everyone else in the unit is coming."

Morgan pursed his lips as he looked down at her in surprise, "I uh, actually didn't even think to invite him. He's never gone to any of our parties in the past. He always had to get home, and besides you know that's not really his thing."

Emily felt a burst of anger. What the FUCK?! Her lack of invite was an accident, but Morgan never had any INTENTION of inviting Hotch!? He invited freaking Will, and Hotch doesn't even score a lousy invite to his stupid party! Emily didn't care how freaking logical he thought his reasoning was. It was a shit thing to do. And it didn't matter if he declined 99 times out of 100, you still freaking ask the 100th time because Hotch was part of the group!

Derek just stared at her in confusion. Why did she suddenly look so pissed off?

"Em, you okay?"

Narrowing her eyes at him she turned back to her computer, "I'm fine. I actually just remembered I can't make it tomorrow. I have plans. And sorry but I have to get this email out."

Derek slowly stood up, "uh, okay, um, sorry you can't make it."

She made a noncommittal grunt as she started tapping away. Derek headed back out to tell Garcia it was a no go on Emily but he kept looking back as he left the bullpen. He couldn't figure out why she seemed mad. Maybe she was just annoyed at the late invite. But he'd apologized. And it was an accident.

Rolling his eyes he pushed open the glass doors . . . who knows? Maybe she really was just busy with work. Either way, Garcia was gonna be pissed. But as he thought back to Emily's face, he knew that he'd have to make sure Pen didn't bug her about it.

He had a feeling Em wouldn't appreciate it.

/*/*/*/*

Hotch flicked the light off in his office and started down the stairs.

"Hey," he called out to Emily, "it's time to go home."

Emily looked up with a small smile.

"I know. I was just finishing up." Then she gave him an expectant look, "you wait for me?"

Hotch quirked his lip up as he sat back on her desk.

"Of course." He watched as she started pulling her file closed and packing up her bag. As she zipped it shut, he tipped his head.

"Hey, I saw Morgan talking to you earlier. Did he say anything about the party?"

Immediately remembering how sweet he'd been to her in the park, Emily looked Hotch right in the eye, and lied her ass off.

"No," she shook her head, "he didn't say anything." Then she reached back to turn off her computer, "but it doesn't matter."

With the exception of that night Hotch had found her crying in the bullpen, this was the only time that she'd ever lied to him. But she could never tell him about her conversation with Morgan. That she was an oversight, but that his omission was purposeful.

It didn't matter the reasoning for it, it was wrong.

And the next time Morgan threw a party she'd make sure to mention it, but she'd been so annoyed with the whole situation that she hadn't wanted to get into it today. She knew he wasn't doing it to be a jerk. He was just a guy and therefore oblivious.

And as a complete aside, this stupid party had caused her so much distress that she absolutely would not have enjoyed herself if she'd gone even if Hotch _had_ been there. She looked over to the man who she realized at that moment had become her closest friend in the office.

Ironically that was once Derek.

She smiled at him as she stood up.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the movies tomorrow? We could see Batman. They're playing it at the half price theater in Ballston, so we wouldn't have to take out a bank loan to afford the tickets."

He started to automatically remind her that he had Jack on Fridays but then she cut him off, tipping her head quizzically, "I thought you told me Haley was taking Jack out of town for some reunion thing?"

Hotch blinked. He'd completely forgotten. They wouldn't be back until Saturday night so he had Jack Sunday to Tuesday instead of the usual Friday to Sunday. Furrowing his brow he looked down at Emily. The movies. He hadn't been to the movies on a Friday night in God knows how long. That sounded like fun. Also, it would take Emily's mind off the party she didn't get invited to, for whatever reason he still didn't know. He flashed her a dimple.

"Batman sounds like a fine way to spend a Friday evening."

"Yay!"

She flashed him a brilliant grin, and then knowing that everyone else was long gone, she reached over to hug him. She really wasn't sure what he was going to say to her invitation. Actually she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd said he had to work late.

Hotch smiled into her hair as he rubbed his hand down her back. He might glare at her for doing it out in public, but he was actually quite fond of her spontaneous hugging. She was soft and she smelled nice.

What's not to like?

Still though, he quickly schooled his features as she pulled back, giving her a mock glare.

"I thought you promised me no hugging in the office."

She rolled her eyes at him, "everyone's gone." Then she gave him a look, "and besides, _you_ hugged back."

"Please," Hotch scoffed as they started walking towards the door, "I was trying to get you off of me."

She stopped and looked at him, "seriously? That's the best you could come up with?" She shook her head slowly back and forth.

"Weak sir, very weak. Just for that you're buying me popcorn AND snowcaps."

He rolled his eyes to her face, and then grinned as she stepped in front of him.

Wow, he'd gotten off easy. He'd assumed she'd make him pay for drinks too. And then of course she turned around and caught him smiling. She smirked.

"And a diet coke."

* * *

_A/N 2: Of course there was a benign explanation for Emily's omission. And I actually thought the Derek/Hotch thing worked because of what Morgan said to him in 'In Birth & Death.' Something along_ _the lines of that he needed him to lead the team even if he didn't necessarily want to hang out with him. Again, not that Morgan would be deliberately jerky, but just that he really wouldn't push Hotch to come out like he would the others because Hotch isn't, in Derek's mind, the kind of guy that hangs out with the group. _

_Tying off the loose threads of their little interpersonal relationship issues, tomorrow. And yes, they will be going to see na, na, na, na,na, na, Batman! And if you don't know it, that's the campy music from the 60s version :) Not that I'm old enough to have actually seen the 60s version first run, but God bless the rerun. BAM! POW!_

_Believe it or not, I STILL haven't seen the Dark Knight, BUT I have the DVD from Netflix, I shall watch it this evening just in case I want to add anything batman specific to my little chapter. Otherwise I'd have to call in a pinch hitter to write the next one for me!_

_Next: __**"Popcorn, Snowcaps & Diet Coke"**_


	64. Popcorn, Snowcaps & Diet Coke

**Author's Note**: Okay, this chapter got super, super long so I decided to break it into two parts. The second half needed a little more polishing anyway. I might put it up later if it gets done. Otherwise tomorrow.

*******************************************

_Early – August_

**Popcorn, Snowcaps & Diet Coke**

"Hey Hotch?"

Hotch looked up worriedly, "what's up Dave?"

He was hoping absolutely nothing at all because Emily was going to be popping through that door in thirty seconds asking if he was ready to go. And he really did not want to disappoint her tonight.

Dave leaned back against the doorjamb, "I was just wondering if you were going to Derek's party tonight?"

He dropped his pen as he looked up suspiciously at Dave, "how do you know about Derek's party?"

"Derek told me about it last week. I'm going. Well, I have a dinner first but after."

Astounded, Hotch looked at him for a second and then cursed, "God Damn it!"

Perplexed, Dave moved further into the room, "what's the matter?" Hotch snapped his jaw shut, "nothing."

Dave walked over, dropped down into one of the visitor's chairs and raised his eyebrow. Like he was going to just drop it now.

Hotch leaned back in his chair, debating for a second whether he should tell him. Eh, fuck it. He huffed in annoyance, "Emily didn't get invited to that party," he wrinkled his brow, "actually I didn't either, which didn't seem odd to me before but now that I know you're going . . . huh," he shook his head, "anyway, I don't much care, but she does."

Dave furrowed his brow, "but that doesn't make any sense that you two weren't invited. I'm sure it was an open invite thing and it was just implied that everyone was going." Hotch was already shaking his head no before Dave finished talking.

"No, Emily heard Morgan and Garcia specially inviting JJ and Reid."

Utterly perplexed, Dave shook his head, "that just doesn't make any sense." Why wouldn't Hotch and Emily get invited? That was ridiculous.

Huffing Hotch started shutting down his computer, "be that as it may, that's what happened. Anyway, doesn't matter. We're going to the movies tonight."

Their snub put aside for a moment, Dave's lip quirked up. This was interesting. He knew they were getting lunch together but this was off work hours. He decided to bust his balls a little. He rubbed his hands together.

"You know when I told you it was time to start dating I didn't necessarily mean within the team."

Hotch paused from closing up his files to shoot a glare across his desk. Chuckling at his irritation, Dave sat back in his chair, "no, that's good though. I'm glad you're getting out."

Hotch just looked at him, "what am I a shut in?" I 'get out' every day." Dave rolled his eyes, "you know what I mean." Hotch scowled. He knew what Dave meant but he didn't appreciate being thought of as some kind of loser who had no personal life. He had a life. He did stuff besides work. And coincidentally proof of that personal life walked in the door at that moment.

"You ready to go?"

Then Emily took note of Hotch's visitor, "oh hey Dave, sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, Hotch shot a look at Dave, "not at all." Then he looked up and gave her a little smile, "let's go." She smirked at him, "I never thought I'd get you out of here on time." Hotch scowled as he walked over to the door, "when am I ever late for anything?" She sighed, he was so literal sometimes.

"I wasn't making a crack about your general punctuality. I was simply making reference to the fact that you tend to 'defer' departure times for social outings."

Hotch stared at her for a second, well she might have a small point there.

Lips twitching, Emily watched as he internally debated whether to verbally acknowledge that she was right. Ordinarily she'd make him say it, but tonight, they were on a schedule. "We can discuss your apology to me later," she stood on her tiptoes so she could see over Hotch's shoulder.

"Bye Dave."

Dave smiled, "good night Emily. You guys have a good time tonight."

She grinned, "oh we will! We're going to see na, na, na, na, na, na Batman!"

Dave started laughing as she spun around on her heel and jogged down the stairs to grab her bag and jacket. Hotch shook his head at her before turning back to Dave to say goodbye and then starting down the stairs. He'd just hit the bottom step as Emily yelled to him as she headed for the door.

"You better hustle! If we're late and they run out of snowcaps it's your ass sir."

Stopping short, Hotch dropped his head to his chest, took a deep breath, said a short prayer, and then finally followed after her. She was standing over at the glass door with a big grin on her face.

Dave watched them go with a smirk. He really didn't know anyone else that could get Hotch quite that flustered. Nor anyone else that could talk to him like that. Well, Dave himself could, but generally Hotch's demeanor was too intimidating for people to really feel comfortable joking around with him. Which was probably just as well, Hotch wasn't much for levity in the work place. That said, he was obviously quite fond of Emily. Though she wasn't generally so boisterous on duty. He watched through the glass doors at the two of them still bickering good naturedly out at the elevators. He could tell they were bickering because Emily was making grandiose gestures about something and Hotch was rolling his eyes. Dave's own eyes crinkled just looking at them. He was glad they were going out, but he just couldn't figure out why they wouldn't have been invited to the party tonight. He bit his lip as he started back up to his office to grab his jacket. There had to be a reason. He'd ask Derek about it when he got there.

///////////

Emily took a deep breath as they entered the theater lobby. She loved the smell of popcorn, but oddly enough only at the movies. When people cooked it at work it nauseated her. She pursed her lips, maybe it was psychosomatic. The fact that so many people had burned so many bags of popcorn at the office over the years, leaving that God awful stench in the air, that now her body was conditioned to recoil from the smell at work. She nodded to herself, that made sense. She looked over at Hotch and smiled, he was checking the room. She was actually glad they were doing this rather than going to the party. Contrary to popular belief, Hotch was a really good time. Reaching over she tugged on his arm as she asked excitedly.

"So did you see the first one?"

Hotch had been scanning the crowd, looking for any potential problems when he felt her grab his arm. He raised his eyebrow as he looked down at her, "weren't there like six other Batman movies?"

She pursed her lips, "well, yeah, but the first couple were Tim Burton adaptations with Michael Keaton, and then they moved on to Val Kilmer and then George Clooney." She shook her head sadly, "I love George Clooney but that was a bad movie. Though I've heard him say the same thing so the fact that he was self aware enough to know that his movie sucked makes me like him even more."

Hotch's lips twitched as he headed towards the line to buy tickets. Emily kept pace with him as she continued to chatter away about the Batman dynasty.

"I didn't see the Val Kilmer one, I'm not a big fan of his. But I actually really liked the first two with Michael Keaton. Jack Nicholson was of course the best joker ever, though," she tipped her head, "Heath Ledger is supposed to be pretty great too. I'll be interested to see the comparison. But back to Nicholson's portrayal, that was in one of the Burton movies and I like almost all of Tim Burton's films. I like the dark tone, and often they have a tragic family component." She jiggled her head, "and I'm sure some shrink would jump all over that remark." She rolled her eyes, "anyway, so yeah, there have been a bunch of other ones but this is only the second one with Christian Bale and I thought the first one was really cool." She tugged on his arm to stop him as she asked again, "so did you see the first one?"

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her, "I did. I saw it on video a couple months ago." And now being able to anticipate her follow-up questions he nodded, "and yes, I did like it. Bale's a good actor." Then he took a few more steps as the line started moving before he turned back to her, "and as a side note, I think you only took one breath of oxygen as you ran through the entire history of Batman in cinema."

She chuckled and then looked around the lobby. She knew Hotch had already scoped it out when they walked in but she wanted to do her own check, on the miniscule chance he'd missed something. Hmm . . . actually a pretty sedate crew. Even though it was a Friday night it was mostly professional adults in work clothes. Most likely that was because all the teeny boppers ran out to see the summer movies as soon as they were released. So fortunately there were only a few teenagers around. Thank God. She knew it was terrible, but as a 'class' of people, she couldn't stand teenagers. Individually, they were fine, but you put a bunch of them together, gah. The girls did that obnoxious giggling about everything thing. And somehow it became cool to pretend that they were stupid even when they weren't. Why is it cool to be dumb? How did _that_ become a thing?

And then the boys, she rolled her eyes, they got into that wolf pack mentality, talking about all females like they were objects. There was really nothing to recommend teens as a group. But the few teens she did see were couples. And actually, she bit her lip as she looked at the kids standing in line getting popcorn, those two over there were really cute. She nudged Hotch's arm and when he looked down she tipped her head.

"Look, aren't they adorable with their little puppy love?"

Hotch casually glanced over. The girl had her arm through his and was leaning her head on his shoulder as he ordered the popcorn. And . . . he just kissed her forehead and reached over to run his hand down her arm. Okay, yeah, they were adorable. Not that he was going to admit that out loud. So he looked back at Emily and gave a noncommittal shrug.

She rolled her eyes, "okay I'm getting you a heart for Christmas," then she gave a pointed nod, "we're next Tin Man."

He grunted at her before he stepped up to the counter and gave the girl money for both tickets. Emily slipped six bucks into his hand. She might have been making him buy her snacks but she was paying her own way. Hotch tucked her money, plus the change, back into his wallet and handed Emily the tickets to hold. As they walked over to the concession stand Emily started getting excited about her free food. She slipped her arm through his, "now let's review, medium popcorn, extra butter, light salt, large box of snowcaps, and an extra large diet coke."

Hotch was already shaking his head before she finished talking, "you can't have an _extra_ large diet coke. Unlike our adventures in the Shire, I cannot press pause every twenty five minutes in Gotham City." She leaned her head against his shoulder as she frowned, "but, my popcorn's going to make thirsty." Hotch sighed as he looked down at her, "how about you get a _small_ popcorn, and then a _medium_ diet coke?"

Furrowing her brow she looked down at the ground for a second, then she looked back up, "counteroffer. Large diet coke, I'll go to the bathroom now, _I _promise to not complain every five minutes that I have to pee, and _you_ promise not to tell me 'I told you so' if I do have to run out more than once."

Hotch squinted his eyes at her for a moment before nodding, "your terms are acceptable," then he tipped is head to the side, "go to the bathroom now. The movie technically starts in five minutes and I know that means the actual film won't start running for twenty minutes but you mentioned twice on the way over how much you hate to miss the dancing hotdogs." And God knows he'd never hear the end of it if she did.

She narrowed her eyes, "I sense mockery in your tone sir, but seeing as I do hate to miss the dancing hotdogs I'm going to let it go." She started to walk off, went ten feet and yelled back for all to hear, "and don't forget my Snow Caps!"

Hotch dropped his head to his chest, he was having that etched on her tombstone. Then he took a breath and looked back up at the kid behind the counter. The kid who was less than half his age and laughing openly at him and Emily. He didn't have the energy to glare at him so he just sighed.

"In case you didn't get all that the first time, it's two small popcorns, light salt, regular butter, two large diet cokes and," he rolled his eyes, "a large box of snowcaps."

Still smirking, the kid nodded as he started ringing up his order, "sure thing buddy but didn't your girl say she wanted extra butter?"

Hotch handed him his debit card as he said drily, "she did, but she'll get over it."

_Extra_ movie theater butter. God! He might as well order her an angioplasty while they were here!

He signed his name to the slip while the kid got their snacks. He'd deliberately opted not to correct his impression about Emily being his girlfriend. He'd noticed about a month ago that people started assuming they were a couple when they were out off the clock. Probably because Emily was so affectionate. The first few times it happened he'd said she was just a friend, but then he started to question why he was bothering to justify his relationship with her to complete strangers.

As long as nobody made that inference when they were working, which they wouldn't because 'on the clock Emily' was not the same as 'off the clock Emily,' then, really, what the hell difference did it make what people thought?

He accepted their tray of food back from the kid with thanks and went over to lean against the wall to wait for Emily. He was there for a minute before he noticed that the same boy they saw in line earlier with his girlfriend was standing a few feet over. Hotch looked at his tray, they had the exact same order, well, except for the candy. The kid grinned at him.

"I saw you guys in line. My girlfriend also yelled at me when she went to the bathroom, but," he picked up the blue box with a smirk, "she prefers Goobers."

Hotch's mouth twitched and he looked back down at the tray of food. He'd just blown twice as much money on the snacks than he had on the tickets. He looked back at the kid holding the same tray of food. Probably seventeen, his clothes weren't too flashy so middle class. Actually, he narrowed his eyes, his clothes looked a little worn, and not in that faux poverty way that rich kids liked to dress. He probably couldn't afford to take his girlfriend out for a regular night at the movies so they had to go to the half price show. And Emily was right, they were a sweet couple. He was still furrowing his brow at him when Emily walked out of the bathroom a moment later. Ironically with the girlfriend, they were chatting about DC Comics versus Marvel Comics.

Emily smiled and said her goodbye to the girl before walking over to Hotch, "what's with the face?"

He looked at her for a second and then handed her the food, "hold this."

Slightly perplexed, she took the tray out of his hands and watched as he pulled out his wallet, slipping out a twenty, and then adding another ten before he turned to the boy.

"Here, in case you need refills."

The kid stared down at the cash, and then looked back up, "dude, I can't take your money."

"Sure you can," Hotch winked at him, "goobers are almost as expensive as Snow Caps."

The boy looked back down at the money as he said softly, "seriously?" Hotch nodded as he stuck it into his hand, "seriously. You guys have a good time." The boy's hand folded around the cash and he looked back up and smiled, "thanks man. Thanks a lot." Hotch looked up to see the girlfriend giving him a brilliant smile, "thanks mister. That's really nice of you."

Hotch could feel his face getting a little warm and he quickly shook his head as he put his wallet away, "it's nothing."

The girl tipped her head, "no really, thank you." She laughed, "we're here on coupons tonight!" The boy chuckled as he slipped the money into his pocket and then his arm around his girlfriend, "yeah man seriously, two for one special!" Hotch's lip quirked up, "well then maybe you can get some full priced dinner after the show." The boy smiled, "well, we were planning on getting the special at the pizza place next door too, but you're right, now we can order off the regular menu."

Hotch chuckled, "well either way have a good time." They kids waved as they headed off to the theater and then Hotch turned back to Emily, who he realized hadn't said a word during that whole exchange. She was hardly ever that quiet for that long. Her eyes were watering.

"Okay, I take back my Tin Man remark." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, "that was about the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

Blushing profusely Hotch took the tray out of her hands, "eh, they seemed like nice kids," then, trying to switch the focus off himself, gave her a droll look, "and the girl has penchant for Goobers. How's a boy his age supposed to support that?" Emily's lips twitched as they began walking towards the theater, "well they're no Snow Caps but Goobers are a fine candy in their own right." Hotch huffed at her and then she nodded, "actually I was talking to her for a bit in the bathroom. Her name's Kathy, her boyfriend there was Tom and they're starting at UVA in the fall. They're the first ones in their family to go to college and they both got full academic scholarships."

Extremely impressed, Hotch looked down, "wow! Good for them."

Emily nodded as she slipped their tickets out of her pocket and handed them to the guy, "yeah, that's what I said. They have to be pretty smart cookies to get a full ride anywhere."

Nodding his agreement, Hotch took one of the stubs back from her and then looked down slightly perplexed, "how did you learn so much about them in three minutes?"

He could never understand how women did that. Just . . . talk to each other. It was so odd. Well, for a guy it was odd. He only got that much personal information in that short a period of time if he was doing an interrogation.

Emily quirked her lip up, "we were washing our hands and I told her they were a cute couple, she laughed, and it went from there." She paused for a second, "she's into comic books. I was at her age too. Actually I was the only girl I knew that liked comic books." She looked up at Hotch, "it's funny, I only talked to her for a couple minutes but I really liked her."

Hotch nodded, he'd liked the boy too. As they entered movie theater he saw the lights were still on, and then he spotted the couple in question sitting in one of the middle rows. The kids both waved and the girl called out, "you guys want to sit with us? I promise we won't make out. I already told Tom I want to actually watch the movie!"

Hotch couldn't help one of the dimples from appearing. She reminded him of Emily.

Emily chuckled, "thanks Kathy but we're actually going to sit up in the back." It was understood without discussing it that neither of them wanted strangers behind them in the dark. It made them uncomfortable.

Kathy gave Hotch an appraising look and then tipped her head to Emily appreciatively, "good for you."

Hotch dropped his head to his chest, yep just like Emily. And the original Emily burst out laughing beside him.

"Um, that's not why but, uh, thanks I guess. See you later."

Of course teenagers would assume that they were just going to make out. As they started up the stairs Emily nudged Hotch, "apparently the youngsters think you're hot." Hotch shot her a look, "good, I was hoping to make the cover of Pedophile Monthly." Emily snorted, "first of all she's almost eighteen, and you can holster the look, I know obviously that eighteen is still way, way, WAY too young for you, but it's not a criminal act. And second, it's only disgusting if _you _find them attractive, not if they find you attractive. All teenage girls find older men attractive."

Hotch's lips twitched as they dropped into the two seats in the far upper corner.

"Really? And what older men did a teenage Emily Prentiss find attractive?"

Eyes twinkling, she took her popcorn from him, "hmm, let's see, Cary Grant, Harrison Ford and, um, oh, my AP European History teacher, Mr. Donarinno. He was in his forties then and I had the biggest crush on him. Turning her head to take in his features, Emily pursed her lips, "actually he looked a little bit like you."

Hotch raised a bemused eyebrow, "did he now?"

"Yeah, but don't get too full of yourself. I saw him at my ten year reunion and the spark was definitely gone," she wrinkled her nose, "he had one of those awful comb overs. You know the kind that flips completely when the guy jumps in the pool." She made a face, "ugh. Scary."

Then she looked up at the screen to see if the previews were starting yet. Still just the trivia stuff. And out of the corner of her eyes she saw Hotch unconsciously running his hand through his hair. She started giggling.

"It hasn't fallen out since the last time you looked in the mirror."

Quickly dropping his hand back down he scowled at her, "I was smoothing it out!"

Biting her lip to try to stop laughing, Emily redirected the conversation back to the original topic. She cleared her throat.

"So what about you? Which of the older ladies caught the eye of a young boy named Aaron?" She tipped her head, "hey did you have a nickname when you were younger? I mean besides Hotch."

He tossed a piece of popcorn in his mouth, "not really. I think a couple guys on the baseball team might have called me 'Ron but that's about it. But mostly I was just Hotchner. I didn't get 'Hotch' until I was with SWAT." He took a sip of soda and then raised his eyebrow, "what about you?"

Emily bit the inside of her cheek before she said softly, "um, I had a couple, um, unflattering ones in high school."

Actually, unflattering didn't even begin to cover it. She got a reputation as being easy and she found 'slut' and 'whore' taped to her locker on a few occasions. It made her wish for the old days when they just called her a freak or a loser. And the bitch of it was she really _wasn't_ easy. Well, she had gone through that stage when she was younger, but after what happened in Italy, she'd kind of gotten her shit together. At least she had more respect for herself and no longer felt like that was the only way to make boys like her. But unfortunately diplomats live in a small world, and by the time her family rotated back to the States and settled back in Washington, a few of the other families from the State Department that they'd known oversees had as well. She ended up going to high school senior year in Virginia with two of the girls that had made her life hell when she was a sophomore at the American school on base in Italy. Her eyes began to sting as she thought back on some of the stuff they'd done. God those girls were horrible.

Hotch stared at her for a second, saw that her eyes were watering, reached over to squeeze her hand as he said softly, "you okay?" He really wished he had known her in high school. Just to see what she had gone through because that did seem to be the root of so many of her problems. Well, probably the constant upheaval from country to country and school to school was the actual root, but clearly that was what led to her, for lack of a better word, 'ostracization,' from the other kids. He had his own issues now that stemmed from his teen years but they had nothing to do with high school. School was actually a nice respite from home.

Emily blinked away the tears and smiled at him, "yeah, just remembering some stupid high school stuff." He ran his thumb over her hand and she sniffled as she tried to brighten up, "anyway, for _nice_ nicknames, my grandparents call me Emmy." Then she smiled as she wiped at the corner of her eye, "and my dad calls me pumpkin."

His eyes crinkled, "pumpkin, huh. That's cute." She laughed, "yeah, sometimes he would do it at embassy parties and somebody would think that was actually my name. It didn't happen too often, but if there was a language issue and they didn't know that was a term of endearment, they'd assume my parents named me after a vegetable." She smiled, "actually even my mother found that amusing."

Hotch's lips twitched, "Supervisory Special Agent Pumpkin Prentiss," he cleared his throat, "the alliteration gives it a certain flair." They stared at each other for a second and then they both burst out laughing. And then they got shushed by the woman four rows down from them and Emily yelled back at her, "oh get over yourself! It's a dancing hot dog!" Then her eyes widened as she looked up at the screen, "oh God it's the dancing Hot Dog!" she smacked his arm, "I almost missed it."

As the lights went down Hotch snorted, "yeah that would have been a real tragedy." Choosing to ignore his mockery she watched the little song and dance routine and then turned her attention to getting her snowcaps open.

Stupid, freaking . . . oops.

She'd yanked a little harder than necessary and ended up spilling them. Half on her, half on Hotch.

Hotch, not the slightest bit surprised at this turn of events just picked up the chocolate bits that landed on his pants and popped them in his mouth. Chewing slowly he nodded his approval before leaning over to whisper to her, "these _are_ good." She stared at him for a second and then her eyes crinkled before she went about sweeping up the chocolate bits on her own lap and putting them back into the box.

That's what she liked about Hotch. Well, she liked lots of things about him, but this was a big one. He never made her feel stupid when she made a mess or tripped over something that wasn't there or bumped into something she should have seen. The stuff he teased her about was more likely to be her saying something, that was in his mind, ridiculous or outrageous. But he didn't make fun of her klutziness. Sometimes he'd shake his head at her if she did something particularly goofy, but mostly he just ignored it completely or gave her a little smile as he asked if she was okay. That was it. For him, it was no big deal.

And she was trying to keep that in mind so she'd stop thinking it was a big deal too. Not like she was always beating her head against the wall saying 'stupid, stupid, stupid,' but he was right, she sometimes did get more upset about her human foibles than she should. And she knew that was another stupid high school thing. She forgot to add 'spaz' to the list of names they'd called her. Her natural klutziness made her a bigger target for the bitchy mean girls. So whenever she did something to draw attention to herself she'd just freak out more later because she felt like she should be able to control that better. Not make an ass out of herself in public all the time. So that sort of carried over as she got older. She reached over to squeeze Hotch's arm as she settled back to watch the opening credits.

But she was working on it.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: If you're familiar with The Hours you might remember I have her in Saudi Arabia when she was fifteen. I actually don't consider those assignments mutually exclusive. I figure the first half of the year they were in Italy and then her mom got transferred to Saudi Arabia later. And I figure the issues I gave her fall in line with canon, including her style of dress senior year. That was definitely someone looking to make their own way._

_In part two we shall arrive at El Fabulouso Fiesto with Dave. And then we shall resolve all of the invite drama. _

_Next: __**"And Let There Be Light!"**_


	65. Let There Be Light!

**Author's Note**: Figured I'd post early. And I was remiss yesterday in forgetting to give some credit to tfm. She put the idea in my head of Em having a discussion about DC Comics versus Marvel, and I did use it and ended up forgetting to say it was her idea. Because personally I don't know jack about comics and never would have come up with that on my own :)

Oh, and I noticed something on the site that I thought I'd flag in case you haven't seen it. They've made a lot of upgrades lately and I just saw they have some cool feature now on the story page to help you read things more easily. It used to just be bigger or smaller font but now you can do contrast and also add spaces between the lines. Which I bring up because sometimes the 'chunky' paragraphs on my own stuff make my eyes hurt. It's double spaced when I write it, but it loses that formatting when I upload it. So just an FYI if that's been bugging you too :)

* * *

_Early – August_

**And Let There Be Light!**

Dave arrived late to Morgan's party. He'd had a business dinner with his publisher directly after work, but Derek had known about that so Dave didn't feel badly. And after waving hello to Reid . . . who was chatting with the redhead from Fingerprinting . . . stopping to say hi to JJ and Will, and grabbing a beer from the bar, he went in search of Derek to ask why the hell Hotch and Emily hadn't been invited to the party.

He found him in the kitchen with Garcia refilling snack bowls. And as soon as he stepped through the door, Derek shot him a grin.

"Hey man! Glad you could make it."

"Yeah, uh," Dave's lip quirked up in a tight smile, "thanks for inviting me." Then he paused for a moment. This was going to be a little awkward but he definitely needed to ask the question. So he just plowed into it.

"Uh, can I ask though? Why you didn't invite Hotch and Emily too?"

Before Derek could respond, Garcia shot him a horrified look.

"You told me Emily had PLANS!" She yelled.

"Whoa, guys," Derek looked back and forth between the two of them, "I _did_ invite Emily!" Then he shrugged, "granted it was a late invitation, but I did invite her, and," he shot a look back to Garcia, "that's when she told me that she already had plans tonight."

Dave's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, that's very odd because Hotch said that she wasn't invited."

"No way man!" Morgan shook his head vehemently, "I absolutely spoke to Em yesterday."

For a moment Dave stared back at Morgan . . . he'd only mentioned Emily. Not Hotch. So his eyebrow inched up a millimeter higher.

"And what about Hotch?"

Morgan frowned.

"You know it's funny, but that's exactly what Emily said."

"And what did you tell Emily when she asked about Hotch?" Rossi was starting to get a glimmer of what had happened.

Morgan shrugged, "that Hotch isn't a party kind of guy."

Stunned, Garcia looked up at him.

"So wait, wait just a minute Derek. Are you saying that you didn't even INVITE Hotch?"

She sent up a silent prayer.

_Please God let me have misunderstood him so I don't have to kill him._

At that point Dave realized it was probably best to just let Garcia handle this portion of the interrogation.

Morgan looked over at Dave and then back at Garcia.

"Uh, no."

But he was starting to see that maybe that might have been a bad call on his part. Because Dave was giving him a nasty eyebrow, and baby girl only ever called him Derek in that tone when he'd really fucked up.

Her gaze narrowed.

"So you mean to tell me that you invited _everyone_ else in the unit, EXCEPT Hotch?"

Knowing that tone meant that he was on thin ice . . . and it was best to keep his mouth shut . . . Derek simply nodded. Silently.

But that didn't save him.

For a moment Garcia just stared, blankly . . . and then launched herself over the chip bowl.

"OF ALL THE STUPID," she slapped his chest, "IDIOTIC," another slap, this time to his arm, "THINGS I'VE EVER HEARD," now both chest and arms, "THAT ABSOLUTELY TAKES THE CAKE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Morgan . . . while feebly attempting to protect himself from all the slapping . . . yelled back.

"WOMAN WOULD YOU STOP HITTING ME!?"

Immediately dropping his beer on the counter, Dave ran over and caught Garcia around the waist. As he pulled her out of slapping range, he shot Derek a glare over her shoulder.

"Seriously Morgan, if you don't have a damn good excuse for doing that, I'm going to let her go. And then I'm going to leave the room and lock the door behind me."

Eyes wide, Morgan looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Guys, I wasn't being an asshole! It's just that the first three years I was in the unit I used to invite him to my house parties and he never once came! After that I just stopped inviting him! He doesn't like these things, he never has, so it never would have occurred to me that somehow he'd all of a sudden want to come hang out. Hotch doesn't 'hang out.'"

Of that last statement Morgan would bet his entire pension, Hotch did NOT 'hang out'. Hotch _did_ stuff. He worked, he trained, he spent time with his kid. He didn't . . . or at least never in the years that Derek had known him . . . simply 'hung out.' Even the few times a year when he went to the bar with them that was either after being cajoled by the girls, or they'd just had a particularly horrendous case.

Usually a combination of both.

Garcia closed her eyes muttering.

"Stupid, stupid men." Then she opened them again and huffed, "Hotch is family. You don't STOP inviting FAMILY to functions. I just assumed he had to work tonight. It never in a million years occurred to me that you hadn't even asked him." She looked over her shoulder, "you can let me go now Dave, I promise I won't hit him." Dave slipped his hand off her waist and slowly stepped back, watching to see if it was a trick. No, she had calmed down, a little.

Once she was free, Garcia crossed her arms at her chest and started tapping her party shoe on the floor, "well, I know now why Emily's not here." She looked over her shoulder and asked sarcastically, "hey Dave do you happen to know now why Emily's not here?" He nodded, "I do Penelope," he smacked his lips, "I do indeed."

Confused Morgan looked at them and then his eyes widened in understanding.

"OH SHIT!"

Bending over, he rubbed his hands down his face, "GRRR, it was _right_ after I told her I hadn't invited Hotch that she got so pissed off!" He never would have made that connection.

Garcia gave him her best, duh face.

"Yeah sugar! Hotch and Emily have been all Courtship of Eddie's Father' for the past two months and she finds out he's not invited to el fabulouso fiesto. Of _course_ she was pissed off. Hell, _I'm_ pissed off! You're lucky _she_ didn't deck you! And has it occurred to you sweet cheeks that maybe now that Hotch is divorced and doesn't have anyone at home, that he might actually _like_ to 'hang out' occasionally? Because clearly that's what he's doing with Emily right now!"

All good points that Garcia had just made, but Dave was still wrinkling his brow as he stared at her for a second, trying to figure out the 'Courtship of Eddie's Father' reference. Garcia often spoke in metaphor . . . but that one was escaping him.

But then the theme song started playing in his head, and he grinned.

'_People let me tell you about my best friend . . ._'

Well, he wasn't sure if had quite reached that stage yet, but it was obvious they were close. And that was exactly why Emily hadn't told Hotch about her invite.

She didn't want to hurt his feelings when Derek invited her late and then said he wasn't inviting Hotch at all.

And Hotch, even after he found out that everyone else had been invited, was more concerned about her feelings than his own. Which made Dave infer that Emily _had _beengenuinely upset when she'd thought that _she'd_ been deliberately snubbed. With a shake of his head, he rubbed his hand across his mouth.

_Madonna Mia! Those two were a pair._

But then Garcia suddenly squealed in horror, and Dave's head snapped up.

"AAAAAHHH! _That's_ why Hotch was giving me the Hell Fire Glare! I thought _I'd_ done something wrong. But no, he was pissed off about the NON Invites! Damn it Derek! Do you know how long I was freaking out about that? I banned Kevin from the bat cave!"

She shook her head angrily.

Really, she should have gone with her first instinct. It was always Derek that was getting her in trouble. Okay . . . she tipped her head . . . she'd gotten herself in hot water on a couple of occasions, like breaking into the mainframe to dummy up Em's ID had not turned out to be her finest hour.

But USUALLY it was Morgan's fault if Hotch was mad at her! So with an angry scowl, she walked right up to Morgan and poked him in the chest.

"Mister, you better fix this tonight or I am PERMANENTLY crashing all of your favorite porn sites."

Horrified, Derek looked down, "you wouldn't?!"

Though he could see her screwing with them temporarily, but PERMANENT shut down! Damn that wass cold!

But wait, how would she know what porn sites he went to? Then he rolled his eyes to himself.

They'd have a cyber footprint and Baby Girl knew ALL of the cyber footprints.

Then sure enough.

"Oh you just WATCH me do it buster brown!" She nodded vehemently, "Lovely and Luscious Ladies, GONE! Babes of the Far East! KAPOW, back to the orient chicas!" She narrowed his eyes at him, "and don't even get me started on what I'll do to . . ."

Derek put his hand up.

"NO, don't even say it! I'll do it! I'll fix it tonight!" Then he frowned, "how am I supposed to fix it? Should I invite him over now?"

Dave sighed.

"Just call him up and apologize Morgan. Just tell him exactly what you told us." He tipped his head, "actually he and Emily were going to the movies so you might just get his voicemail. Either way though, he's not pissed off about not getting invited personally. He was pissed about _Emily_ not getting invited." He gave him a pointed look, "and keep in mind, he _still_ thinks that she got snubbed too. And I know him, he's going to stay pissed off about that one until he knows otherwise."

As soon as Dave said that, Derek had another light bulb moment.

_That _was why Hotch had dragged him to the gym today! And that was also why he'd almost taken his head off three times! As it was Derek was covered in bruises. Yeah, he always was kind of banged up after sparring with Hotch but today was BAD.

That was some serious aggression.

Then another thought came to him and he shuddered.

It was just a good thing that Hotch hadn't dragged him for target practice.

Damn. He didn't know the two of them were that close now. Either way though, that wasn't what was important. What was important was he never had any intention of upsetting anyone and now he'd upset both of them. He closed his eyes.

Poor Em. If Hotch was that pissed at him that meant she must have actually had her feelings hurt.

God damn it!

Derek would have done just what Hotch did if he found out anyone upset her like that. He was going to have to do something to make it up to her.

Oh! She lied the stupid girly bath stuff. He'll get her a gift certificate for one of those places. He eyed Garcia still glaring at him . . . and maybe one for Baby Girl too. He did sort of inadvertently get her in trouble. He'd have to make sure he mentioned to both of them that she had nothing to do with any of this.

Now he just had to apologize to Hotch.

So with a sigh, he took his phone off his belt, and hit speed dial two.

/*/*/*/*

Emily walked out of the bathroom and out into the crowded lobby.

At that moment, she was feeling very proud of herself. She'd only had to scramble over Hotch ONCE during the picture! And he'd kept his end of the bargain too about not giving her any crap. And that was even though the reason that she had to go to the bathroom was because she drank her soda _and_ finished off his too.

She stood on her tiptoes looking for Hotch. Two movies had just let out and there was another one about to start.

Oh . . . there he was . . . over in the corner. Her lower lip popped out.

On the phone.

Crap. God, she hoped that didn't mean they had a case.

She slipped between the crowds. Crowds which had gotten much bigger since they'd arrived. They'd gone to the early show and it was almost ten now.

A second later she popped out in the corner, and sidled up next to him. Then . . . while pointing to the phone . . . she mouthed.

"Case?"

Hotch responded by shaking his head slowly while continuing to speak into the phone.

"Okay well, thanks for calling, uh maybe we'll see you later." Hotch snapped the phone shut before staring at Emily for a moment. Then he said softly.

"Why didn't you tell me Derek invited you to the party yesterday?"

Emily tried to play stupid.

"Huh?"

How does he KNOW that?!

Seeing Emily's diversionary tactic for what it was, Hotch's expression softened.

"That was Morgan on the phone. He called to apologize for not inviting me to the party tonight. Apparently, he didn't invite _me_ because he didn't think I'd be interested. But what I found most intriguing about our conversation was him telling me that he invited you yesterday afternoon and you told him that you already plans and couldn't make it." He tipped his head, "_except,_ you and I didn't make plans until last night." He pursed his lips, "so we come back around to the question, why didn't you tell me Derek invited you to the party yesterday?"

For a moment, Emily just stared up at him.

She hadn't wanted to tell him about her invite, but now he knew so that was actually good. Because she'd hated lying to him. Her teeth sunk into her lip.

"You were so good to me when I was upset that I couldn't bear to tell you that I got invited and you didn't. I didn't want to hurt your feelings like mine had been." She sighed, "and then I was so mad at Morgan that I wouldn't have gone to the stupid party anyway."

Her gaze dropped down and then back up.

"But I'm really glad he called and apologized to you. I know he wasn't trying to be a jerk, but it was still a shitty thing to do."

Hotch was basically ignoring everything that had to do with Morgan. They were guys. He'd apologized and it was fine.

No, what mattered was her . . . what she'd done. So he reached down and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against his chest.

"So you lied about your invitation," he whispered, "so you wouldn't hurt my feelings?"

"Yeah," Emily nodded against his chest, "I know that you're a guy, and well, you, so you don't get upset about the same stuff I do. But still, that would have been just mean to tell you," she sighed, "and I couldn't do that to you."

Hotch buried his face in her hair.

God she was so sweet. And the more time they spent together, the more he was starting to wonder what he would do without her around. She was the balance to all of the awful things in his life. Like Jack, but the difference was he got her every day. Someone good and kind that he could keep with him to offset the misery. He must have finally built up some good karma with the man upstairs.

Emily smiled against his chest.

This was the first time that Hotch had ever hugged her first. He kind of had a thing about the hugging stuff. He was fine with her initiating, and now he always hugged her back, but he didn't do it himself. She didn't know exactly why that was, but she thought maybe it had something to do with his little protective bubble he had around him that kept people at arm's length. Both literally and figuratively. And he was getting better about letting her in figuratively, so she was glad to see he was making a little progress on the literal distance too.

Then she thought of something and looked up at him.

"I am sorry for lying to you though. I felt bad doing it," she cringed slightly, "are you mad at me?"

Shaking his head slowly, Hotch's eyes crinkled as he looked down at her.

"No Prentiss, I am most definitely _not_ mad at you."

She smiled.

"Good, can't have that." Huffing he rubbed her back, "no, most definitely can't have that." He leaned back slightly, "Morgan asked if we wanted to come over. Dave just got there, and everyone on the team is still around."

Emily's nose wrinkled slightly.

"I don't really want to go." She tipped her head, "I mean I'm glad everything's straightened out now, but I just don't feel like going to a party that caused me so much personal strife." Then she sighed, "_but_, I guess maybe we should to sort of smooth everything over."

He stared at her for a moment.

He didn't really want to go either, for the same reason. But they should put in an appearance so Derek knew there weren't any hard feelings. Furrowing his brow, Hotch looked down at his watch, "how about we go for a half hour, everybody makes nice and then," he looked up, "we go out for cheeseburgers at that all night diner in the District."

Emily grinned.

"I like cheeseburgers."

And his eyes crinkled.

"I know you do."

She slipped her hand into his, "come on, the sooner we make nice the sooner I get my burger."

"Wait," Hotch looked down at her suspiciously, "are you expecting a free burger? Because I think I'm tapped out from those Snow Caps."

Emily looked up . . . and remembering how sweet he'd been to those two kids . . . she graced him with a soft smile.

"Actually, my treat."

Hotch stared down at Emily for a second.

For all of his teasing he actually didn't mind paying. As a chief he did make notably more money than she did. And even with alimony and child support he still was quite comfortable financially. Not wealthy by any stretch, but comfortable. Because really, with the exception of his dry cleaning charges, and eating out regularly, he didn't have much in the way of personal expenses. So generally they split the bill, or he'd grab it before she could see it. But he could see from the look on her face that she really wanted to do this, so he nodded.

"Okay," he shrugged, "your treat."

And with that she tugged on his hand.

"Good," she continued as they started for door, "then over dinner we can discuss the movie." She looked over at him, "and maybe we could compare and contrast with the previous ones. Do a Batman vs. Batman, Joker vs. Joker editorial discussion."

She thought it might be fun. Though, as she thought about it she realized he wasn't into stuff like that like she was, so that idea would probably be met with a resounding, "no Prentiss." But then he surprised her with an affirmative nodd.

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

It would make her happy. And he had realized that alone had become a good enough reason for him to do lots of things that he probably wouldn't have enjoyed doing in the past.

Things that he would have said "no" to really for no good reason at all.

But he'd come to see that he didn't need to be so damn cranky all the time. He did have some good things in his life, things to be grateful for, and it didn't make him less effective at his job if occasionally he was in a good mood. Or . . . in this instance . . . if occasionally he had a completely ridiculous conversation just because it would make her happy.

Surprised, she looked over, "really?! You want to?"

Hotch's eyes crinkled, "really."

She flashed him a brilliant grin and he squeezed her hand as they walked through the door. Yep, it made her happy.

And what more reason did he need than that?

* * *

_A/N 2: So all of the team strife has been straightened out. They're not idiots, and they are profilers, it was realistic that once one domino got knocked down they'd start figuring out the rest pretty quickly. And I think Derek has both redeemed himself, and hopefully explained himself. Though as Garcia said, it all boils down to 'stupid, stupid, men'. I also enjoyed the visual of her being half his size and launching a girly slap fight that he had no defense against. And this way the team was sort of pulled along into taking note of their new relationship but without any speculative gossipy bits. I'm not going to have a 'oh what's going on with Hotch & Emily' subset. I already did that in The Hours. Their closeness in this story is just seen as friendship and that's it. Much later some of them will also notice some other stuff, but again, it's not going to be a thing. I've already been there and I've already done that. I don't want to do it again :)_

_And because the team bit went on for so long I ended up scooting right over the actual watching of Batman and just jumped to the end. Sometimes though, the chapter doesn't go the way you expect it will in your head. They just do their own thing and you have to go with it._

_Another story arc coming up. Two parter, heavier drama than this one._

_Next: __**"Family Emergencies"**_


	66. Family Emergencies

**Author's Note:** First of a two parter. I feel the need to note, with this chapter, I have now exceeded the chapter length of The Hours, and we still like another 60 chapters to go!

Also, if you haven't seen it, I put up a new prompt story today. _Elegy_. It's incredibly sad. Please note and heed the warning on it before you read it!

And happy birthday to my fellow Taurus, warmsangue! See, I remembered, Cinco de Mayo!

*******************************************

_Early – August_

**Family Emergencies**

"Okay thanks Linda. I'll see you in a few hours."

Hotch slowly replaced the receiver into the cradle of the phone, staring at it for a moment before he stood up and went over to the door of his office, looking down at Emily bent over her desk. Taking a breath he went down the stairs, sitting down on her desk and then placing his hand on her shoulder.

Emily feeling Hotch's hand on her, she knew it was him before she turned, looked up at him. She felt her stomach clench, he was pale and the lines around his mouth were pinched. She turned in her chair, his hand falling off her shoulder as she put hers on his leg.

She said quietly, "what happened?"

Hotch looked down at her fingers clenched into his thigh and then he took a breath.

"My brother Sean was in a car accident." Emily's eyes widened and her hand slid over to grasp his fingers as he continued, "his girlfriend just called, it was a head on collision. They had to use the jaws of life to get him out but fortunately his airbag deployed so he is alive." He took a breath, "the other driver died."

Emily squeezed his hand, "what do you need me to do?"

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly, "nothing, I just wanted to tell you."

Biting her lip Emily smiled back sadly. Hotch looked at her for a moment, and she thought he was going to say something else, but then he shook his head and stood up, "I'm going to catch the next flight to New York, I'm not sure when I'll be back."

Still grasping his hand Emily stood with him. "I'll take you to the airport." Hotch shook his head, "no Prentiss, that's okay. I'll catch a cab."

"Agent Hotchner?"

They both turned to see Section Chief Strauss looking oddly at them. Hotch dropped Emily's hand as he lifted his arm to look at his watch.

"Oh ma'am, I forgot we were meeting." He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry but I need to cancel. I just got a call, my brother was in a serious car accident."

Strauss's eyes widened, "oh I'm so sorry Aaron. Of course, take whatever time you need. This can wait."

Well, she realized, that explained why he had been holding Agent Prentiss' hand. He'd just received some terrible personal news.

Hotch turned back to Emily, "I'll tell Dave I'm leaving, if you could just tell people that I had a family emergency and they can go through you or him if they need to speak to me. I'll check in with both of you."

Emily was nodding as he spoke, "okay, but Hotch, seriously, let me drive you to the airport." Strauss cut in, "yes Aaron let Agent Prentiss drive you, and don't worry about Agent Rossi either. I'll let him know what's going on," she gave him a pointed look, "just go, we'll take care of things here."

Hotch looked back and forth between the two women, well there certainly wasn't any point in arguing with both of them. He nodded, "okay, I'll just grab my things."

Hotch jogged back up to his office as Emily tipped her head in polite thanks to Strauss as she passed by her going up to Dave's. The two women had slightly warmer relations than a year earlier when Strauss had tried to enlist her as a spy and Emily had quit in disgust. Things were less frosty, but even after all this time, Emily still didn't trust her worth a damn. She was grateful though for the support she'd just given Hotch. It was actually a very human reaction, so Emily decided to add a point in her plus column. There's one.

Emily shut down her computer and was grabbing her bag from under her desk when Morgan and Reid walked back in from lunch. She pushed in her chair.

"Hey guys, I'm going to run Hotch to the airport, he has a family emergency and he'll be away for a few days."

Hotch came rushing down the stairs just then and put his hand on Emily's shoulder, "you ready?"

She nodded, "yeah, let's go." Without another word the two of them hurried out as Morgan and Reid looked worriedly after them.

Morgan furrowed his brow, "I hope it's not too serious."

Reid looked over perplexed, "well emergencies by definition Derek are generally considered to be serious."

Sighing Morgan pulled out his chair, "I know man, that's why I said TOO serious."

Spencer knit his eyebrows together and then nodded as he pulled out this own chair, "oh right, sorry."

//////////////

As Emily exited the Academy parking garage, Hotch was already on his laptop booking a flight.

She turned to him, "where are we going?"

Still typing Hotch answered, "Dulles, there's a 3:35 on American." He checked his watch, "I should just make it." Emily checked her own watch and then pressed down on the accelerator, "oh you'll make it, don't worry."

Hotch finished putting in his credit card information and then dug a pen out of Emily's glove compartment, scribbling down his confirmation number on the palm of his hand.

That done, he closed his laptop, slipped it back into its bag and put it down by his feet. He debated calling his mother but he didn't have any news yet and it might be better if he waited. She was obviously going to be very upset and he'd rather have something more substantial to tell her beyond just 'horrible car accident, but he's not dead.' She was older now, living in South Carolina and probably wouldn't be up to traveling to New York unless things were truly dire. He sighed as he leaned back, hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Linda had said 'serious.' That's the word the doctors used, 'serious,' not 'critical' or 'grave.' Serious was one step away from Fair and Fair was one step from Good.

Wow, when did he start thinking like an optimist? His eyes shifted to the left. That's right. Emily. As soon as he'd received the news about his brother the first person he went to tell wasn't Dave, who needed to be informed because he was in charge, but Emily simply because Hotch had needed to see her. She had gradually become his go to person for everything, professional and personal.

He wished she was coming with him.

Emily, sensing Hotch looking at her, flicked her eyes over, "you sure you don't need me to do anything else?"

Chewing his lip, Hotch debated whether it was appropriate to ask her. No . . . she might think that was odd. Why would she want to go to New York with him? So rather than saying what he wanted to, he instead pulled out his blackberry to check his calendar.

"I do have one meeting tomorrow maybe you could cover. Actually . . ." he scrolled down, "there are two I'd rather not cancel. They took weeks to set up." He looked over at her, "maybe you could take one and Dave could take the other?" She nodded as she changed lanes, "of course, just send me the details and he and I will sort it out when I get back to the office."

Relieved Hotch nodded his thanks as he forwarded the confirmation emails to her account. He started to put away his phone and then realized he should probably call Haley. Just in case he wasn't back by Friday and he couldn't take Jack. He sighed as he scrolled down the speed dial, they had actually been getting along better lately, he just hated to have to call her. They were doing better simply because they were only speaking during Jack's drop offs and pickups. They'd realized they needed some time to let the wounds heal, and limiting their personal interactions seemed to have been the remedy for that. He took a breath and hit her name, waited as it rang, once . . . twice . . .

"Hi Haley, it's me."

Trying to ignore Hotch's conversation with his ex-wife, Emily concentrated solely on her driving. Which she should have been doing anyway given that she was going at least 15 mph over the speed limit. The irony of getting into a car accident on the way to seeing somebody who had been in a car accident, was not lost on her.

As he hung up she looked over sympathetically, "things still weird?"

Hotch exhaled slowly as he put away his phone, "yeah, they're getting better though. And that," he tapped on his phone, "actually wasn't bad at all. Haley's good about family stuff."

He shook his head and looked out the window. They were just entering the airport and he pointed up at the sign, "Departures, go left." She nodded and hit her directional as Hotch undid his seat belt to reach behind him and get his duffel. Emily maneuvered around the security check stops and pulled up to the curb, putting the car in Park and turning, she gave him a sad look.

"I hope everything's okay. You'll call me later?"

Hotch nodded, "I will," he gave her a little smile as he put his hand on the door, "thanks again for driving me."

Her eyes crinkled slightly, "you're welcome," she checked her watch, "you better run. You have thirty-five minutes to check in, get through security and down to the gate."

Hotch stepped out and then leaned back down, "bye."

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she waved, "bye, have a safe flight." Hotch nodded as he looked at her for a second longer before he slammed the door shut, turned and sprinted into the terminal.

She watched for a moment after the sliding doors shut, and then she put the car back in gear and headed out of the airport. She'd almost asked if he wanted her to come with him, but then she thought that might be weird. They weren't dating, they were just friends. Now if, God forbid, his brother had died, well, then yes, of course she would have offered to go with him, but as it was she figured moral support in this situation was probably better offered from a distance. Though that in and of itself sounded stupid, if it's moral support then you shouldn't be offering it from a distance. She rolled her eyes as she shook her head, too late now. Hopefully his brother wasn't too seriously injured and Hotch would be back soon.

//////////////

Hotch paced back and forth debating whether it was too late to call Emily. It was almost midnight. Their departure had been delayed so he hadn't landed until six, it took almost an hour to get into Manhattan, and since then he'd been up in the ICU where he couldn't use his phone. He'd just taken a break to get some fresh air down in the ambulance bay. He stood there tapping his finger against the side of his phone looking down at her name.

Yes . . . no . . . yes.

He hit Send, his eyes crinkling when she picked up before the first ring had even gone through.

She greeted him softly, "hey."

He closed his eyes for a second. It was good to hear her voice.

"Hey."

Leaning back against her headboard, Emily pulled her knees up to her chest, "so how's he doing?"

"Stable," Hotch walked over to lean against the wall by the entrance to the E.R., "the airbag prevented any serious internal injuries, but he has some cracked ribs and he shattered his femur, and a shard of bone nicked his femoral artery." Emily hissed, "God Hotch!" He nodded, "yeah, I know. He was in surgery as I was flying, I got delayed flying out by the way, he was out and in recovery by the time I got here. And I've been up in the ICU the past few hours. His girlfriend is a mess and there's nobody here but the two of us." Hotch sighed, "not that I don't feel badly for her, I'm just not good at, well, you know." Emily smiled softly, "I know." Hotch joked, "I could really use you here to hold her hand." There was an extended silence from the other end of the line.

"Prentiss? You still there?"

She rushed out, "I was going to ask if you wanted me to come with you, but I thought it might be weird if I asked," she paused, "so I didn't."

Hotch huffed, "yeah, I thought it might be weird if I brought it up too, that's the reason I didn't ask if you could come."

Emily sat up straight in bed, "OH! You DID want me to come!? I'm sorry!" She started to push her blankets off, "I can fly out tonight. I'll be there by morning."

Hotch started shaking his head vehemently even though she couldn't see him, "NO! No, Prentiss it's okay. He's stable, there's nothing you could do here. I'm just standing around waiting." Hotch could hear the pout in her voice when she responded, "well I could keep you company while you stood around and waited," then she brightened a little, "and I could keep the girlfriend busy for you."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he responded softly, "don't worry Prentiss, I'll be okay. I promise. You just cover things for me there, that's plenty of help."

Emily leaned back, "if you're sure . . ."

"I'm sure." He was quiet for a minute and then he chuckled ironically, "so it's agreed, the next time one of us has a family emergency the other goes along for the trip?" Emily smiled, "absolutely. In the car back to the office I decided that moral support from a distance is half assed support indeed."

Hotch's lip quirked up, "any support is better than none at all Prentiss."

She tipped her head, "true sir."

Hotch yawned, "okay, well I'm yawning now so I should definitely let you get to bed. I'll call tomorrow."

Emily smiled as she leaned over to get the bedside lamp, "g'night Hotch."

"Good Night Prentiss."

Hotch clicked off the call and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He felt better for talking to her. That's why he had wanted to ask her to come with him. She was like his automatic 'de-stressor,' she made him feel better. But three hundred miles had seemed a rather long distance to ask someone to travel to be your security blanket. But he now knew that apparently she liked being his blanket. So to speak. Well, that's good to know because he liked being her blanket too. And if they had this stupid conversation earlier then he definitely would have asked her to come with him to keep him company. But at least if either of them, God forbid, had to go through something like this again, they'd know they wouldn't have to do it by themselves. It was nice having somebody to lean on again.

He stifled another yawn as he turned to go into the hospital and went in search of some coffee.

/////////////////////

Dave stood in his doorway looking down at Emily dejectedly flipping through her case files. She'd sighed four times in the last five minutes. Since Hotch left for New York two days ago she'd been walking around looking like she lost her puppy. And the few times Dave had spoken to Hotch on the phone he'd asked casually, 'how's Prentiss doing with this?' or 'how did Prentiss make out with that?' Even though Dave knew Hotch had spoken to her himself at least a couple times a day since he'd been gone. Dave shook his head, that's the problem when two such solitary people become friends, you split them up and they feel more disconnected than the average person would be who had a larger pool of support to fall back on. Well, Dave thought, Prentiss at least he could keep occupied for a few minutes. He headed down the steps and over to her desk.

"Emily, I'm going to get some coffee. Would you like to join me?"

Emily looked up with a polite smile, "no, that's okay Dave. Thanks anyway though," and she turned back to her desk.

Dave's face softened, she really was miserable. He tried again.

"Come on kid, keep an old man company." Looking back up Emily stared at him for a second and Dave winked at her, "my treat, you can even buy something stupid and frothy." She stood up chuckling, "well, who could turn down an offer like that?"

Dave figured he'd treat her to good coffee so they wandered out of the building down to the coffee shop on the corner. Making inane chit chat about the weather and comparing notes on the consults they'd been reviewing. Dave waited until they were on their way back before he asked the big question, "so have you heard from Hotch today?"

Nodding Emily took a sip of her coffee, "yeah, about an hour ago. He's going to be gone a couple more days at least. His brother has another

surgery scheduled for tomorrow." She paused, "he's doing better though, he's been upgraded to Fair."

Rossi nodded, he knew there had already had been two surgeries in the past 48 hrs, first to repair the artery and then pin his shattered femur back together. He glanced back over at her, "that's good."

Emily turned and gave him a genuine smile, "yeah it's really good. Hotch sounded much better today, and you know he's not a Sunny Side of the Street type guy so things have definitely taken a turn for the better."

Dave snorted slightly at her comment about Hotch and then took another sip of his coffee. He debated whether he should try to engage her in additional lighthearted chatter, but as they headed back into the building he decided that was enough for today, she seemed a little cheerier than when they'd left. When they got to the bullpen she turned and smiled at him as she raised her cup, "thanks for the coffee Dave."

His eyes crinkled as he tapped his cup against hers, "anytime Prentiss." He left her at her desk and headed back to his office.

Emily watched Dave go with a little smile on her face before she pulled out her phone and sent Hotch a text message.

'_Dragged out for a coffee w/Dave. I think he felt sorry for me. Sweet. But not the same :( '_

Hotch was sitting in the waiting room working on his laptop when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out, his eyes crinkling as he read her message. His lip quirked up as he typed back.

'_Barely gone a day and you're already cheating on me. Nice.'_

He hit send and then twitched his lips as he typed one more.

'_And Prentiss, sad face emoticon? Really?'_

Emily looked down at her phone buzzing across her desk. Two messages from Hotch. She laughed as she read them and then felt her face get warm as Morgan glanced over and gave her a look. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I was just thinking of something funny from earlier."

He nodded and went back to his file.

Emily rolled her eyes. Way to make an ass out of yourself Prentiss. She waited a minute before she picked up her phone again. Once she was sure Derek wasn't paying attention she wrote back.

'_Dave's just a fling, it doesn't mean anything!_

She sent that one, and then one more.

'_AND, you made me laugh out loud in the office! Now Morgan thinks I'm crazy!' _

Picking up his phone again Hotch huffed as he flipped between her last two messages and then sent two of his own.

'_Morgan's a smart man and Dave has three ex-wives. Better watch yourself.'_

'_Have to go meet with the doctor in a minute. Call you tonight.'_

Emily bit her lip as she typed back quickly.

'_K. Good luck :)'_

Hotch smiled softly at her last message, again with the emoticons. He slipped his phone back into his pocket; he knew she was doing it to cheer him up.

"Girlfriend?"

Hotch looked up at his brother's girlfriend who was staring at him from across the room, "I'm sorry?"

She gestured towards his pocket, "was that your girlfriend?"

Hotch smiled as he shook his head, "no, just a friend from work. She drove me to the airport." He started shutting down his laptop.

"I think it's about time to go meet with the doctor."

//////////////

Emily was in the midst of catching up on her housework when she noticed her phone vibrating on the counter. Text from Hotch.

'_Sean moved to regular room. Catching flight back today. See you in the morning.'_

Emily smiled in relief, thank God his brother was better. He'd had some complications after the second surgery so Hotch had stayed another day. Then she looked back at his message again. How was he getting home from the airport? She'd dropped him off. She chewed on her lip for a second before opening the options on the message and hitting call back.

Hotch was packing up his bag as he looked down as his phone buzzing, 'private caller.' Who was that?

"Hotchner."

"Hey it's me."

His face softened as he switched his phone to his shoulder as he zipped up his duffel, "did you get my message?"

Emily nodded, "yeah, that's why I was calling. Do you need a ride?"

"No Prentiss, that's okay. I can catch a cab."

"Hotch it's really no problem. I'm not doing anything today but cleaning the house."

Hotch debated for a second, he didn't want to put her out but as long as she was offering. And it would be really nice to see her.

He quirked up his lip, "okay, thanks. I land at four. I'll forward you the email with my flight info."

Checking the time Emily smiled, "okay, I'll see you in a few hours."

Hotch felt a dimple appear, "see you in a few hours."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Now why didn't I send her along after the midnight phone call? Why didn't I let her offer TLC at the hospital? It's too soon. This was just an establishment chapter. They're now on the same page in their relationship, and that's kind of the key to moving them along in this world. Keeping them consistently on the same page. Nobody's pining for anybody else. They're moving along at the same pace, with the same growing degree of affection, and now they've established the 'security blanket' thing. And trust me, they'll have plenty more instances coming up where the blanket shall be needed! _

_I actually wrote this one awhile ago and I'm glad I gave Hotch the emergency and not Em. Just given what I did to poor Emily over in Horses, I'd feel bad if I was kicking the crap out of her family in every 'verse! And seriously, how often do you see "Sean" turn up in a story? I actually had to look up his name. He shall be coming back again in a couple months. And he'll get some actual face time. I could have spent more on Hotch's time with him at the hospital but I'd already structured this one a certain way to cover him being gone the week, and I didn't want to add another 3,000 words to the chapter. Because invariably when I decide to add another angle to a chapter that's always what I end up doing._

_The conclusion to this bit is more relationshipy. Still platonic relationshipy though :)_

_Next: __**"Airport Pickups"**_


	67. Airport Pickups

**Author's Note:** This is part two of our little arc. This is a very Seinfeld'esque chapter in that nothing really happens. She just picks him up at the airport.

_**FYI Prompt Announcement**_: I put up the new bonus challenge yesterday. You can check it out on the forum.

*******************************************

_Early - August_

**Airport Pickups**

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please discontinue the use of any electronic devices and return your seats and tray tables to their locked and upright positions."

Even with all of the flying he did Hotch still didn't hear those words very often. But he was traveling back from New York on his own dime today. Sean was finally out of ICU and expected, with extensive physical therapy to make a full recovery. Hotch had been away for almost five days but once he was sure he brother was stable and there wasn't anything more that he could do, he'd decided it was time to go home. Though he had promised to visit soon. And he intended to keep that promise. Usually he and his brother saw each other two or three times a year. Given that they lived barely more than an hour away from each other by plane, that one more item in the list of pathetic realizations Hotch had been compiling. He thought back on his resolutions after the bombing in New York, mending relationships. He definitely needed to work on things with Sean too.

He had sent Emily a text when he'd decided to fly back that afternoon and she had immediately called offering to come pick him up. He didn't want to put her out, but just like the ride _to_ the airport, she had insisted on picking him up. It would have been more convenient for her if he'd been able to catch a flight into National, but the only one that he could get on landed at Dulles. Either way, he thought as they taxied up to the gate, home was home.

He headed up the gangplank with his bag and his laptop slung over his shoulder. It was good to be back. Work was stressful but waiting around hospitals waiting for loved ones to get out of surgery while trying to keep their hysterical girlfriends calm wasn't a picnic either. He blew out a puff of air, it was at _least_ a fifteen minute trek across the terminals to get to the main exit. And then outside to the mass of vehicles coming and going to try and find Emily. He ballparked that whole journey taking him thirty or forty minutes. Not terribly unreasonable for getting out of a major metropolitan airport, but now that he was actually home, he really wanted to see her.

He'd missed her. A lot.

He'd been getting coffee and lunch regularly with her now for a couple months and he was used to seeing her every day. They'd been talking on the phone since he'd been gone but it wasn't the same. He started to dig out his cell phone to call and tell her he had landed when someone caught his eye.

He squinted . . . funny that woman over there looks a little like . . . but that's not possible. Is it?

Scrunching up his face he tipped his head to the side trying to get a better look.

Emily was standing on her tiptoes scanning the crowd as it came through the gate. This was definitely Hotch's flight, now where was he?

OH!

A big goofy smile fell on her face as she began waving like an idiot at Hotch who was now standing perfectly motionless, oblivious to the crowd glaring at him as he blocked the exit. He was staring at her but he looked utterly perplexed. That was until she started to wave and his eyes crinkled and one of his dimples appeared. He pushed his bags back on his shoulder and started walking towards her.

Dodging the crowd Emily met him half way, and once she got within three feet she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a vise.

"HI! I MISSED YOU!"

Hotch fell back slightly at her impact, but squeezed her back just as tightly as he lifted her off the ground, hiding his smile in her hair.

"Hey. I missed you too."

He put her back down and stepping back slightly, gave her a curious smile, "I was going to meet you outside." He tipped his head, "how'd you even get in here? This is past security."

Emily winked as she tapped her purse, "I'm an FBI agent. I can go anywhere."

Hotch raised an amused eyebrow as he looked her up and down.

"You can go anywhere huh, in shorts and a tank top? Did the Bureau change the dress code while I was away? Do I need to pick up some Hawaiian shirts on the way home?"

Smirking she raised her own eyebrow, "I know it was Wednesday when you left, but it's now Sunday, sir. Amazingly, the world kept spinning on its axis even though you were out of town." She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, "and you're making fun of me." She looked over his beige chinos and his short sleeved navy golf shirt, "look at you all casual in your preppy light outfit. Were the young republicans having a sale at the airport?"

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he put his hand on her shoulder and started steering her towards the exit. _This_ is what he'd missed. He couldn't get THIS on the phone. Well, not the full impact anyway. He looked down at her.

"We can't all pull off those spaghetti straps Agent Prentiss. Seriously though, not that I'm complaining, but what made you decide to flash your badge and come all the way in? It's a hike."

Emily glanced over with a sheepish smile, "I was early. Really early. I got your flight info and I thought with traffic I'd give myself a nice fifteen minute buffer. But alas, I too forgot it was Sunday. No traffic. I got here almost an hour ago." She gave him a shy grin, "so I figured I'd surprise you."

His lips twitched, "you did. I thought you had some doppelganger out there running around in shorts and pigtails, speaking of which," he tugged on one of her two ponytails, "explanation please."

Emily's face turned pink as she started laughing, putting her hand up to feel her hair.

"Oh God! I forgot I had them in! I was playing around with my hair this morning when I didn't think I'd be going out." She stopped walking and wrinkled her nose at him, "do I look ridiculous?" Hotch too stopped walking and nodded seriously, "yes, yes you do." And then his mouth started to quiver so he quickly bit his lip as took her arm and started walking again.

Emily smirked, she had seen him clamping down on the impending smile. He liked them. Hotch liked her pigtails, that was really funny. She decided to amuse herself further.

She leaned slightly into his side, "so I take it you're embarrassed to be seen with me?"

Hotch responded flatly, "always."

Emily stopped walking, okay that SO backfired. When did he get good with the comebacks? She scowled at him which made Hotch chuckle as he took her hand.

"Okay now you really do look ridiculous. I feel like I'm getting the evil eye from Pippy Longstocking. And Prentiss, if you'll recall, this is like a twenty minute walk through the terminals anyway, if we don't actually _stay in_ _motion_, I can pretty much guarantee it's going to take much longer."

He tugged her hand and started them moving again. But seeing her slightly sulky look his own lips twitched in return. Apparently if he wished to keep the peace, some clarification was in order. He tipped his head as he stated conversationally.

"Actually I find your hair, not so much ridiculous as . . . amusing." He actually thought she looked adorable, but he wasn't saying _that_ out loud.

Emily looked over at him, "amusing, huh?" she gave him a mischievous look, "as in it makes you '_happy_' to look at me sir?"

A little ghost of a smile passed over Hotch's lips as he winked at her, "I picked the word I picked Prentiss."

She gave him a soft smile as she bumped her shoulder into his and Hotch knew he had been forgiven his mockery. A moment later he decided to add one more thing just for _her_ amusement.

"Though I wouldn't suggest wearing them to the office, God knows Spencer doesn't need any more ideas for new hairstyles."

Emily laughed heartily at that, she had just asked Hotch last week what was up with Reid's hair. She sobered as she asked again how Sean was doing but Hotch had called Linda again from LaGuardia and she said he was starting on solid food so things were looking good.

As they reached the escalators Hotch let go of Emily's hand and stopped to let her step in front of him. Grasping onto the guardrail she turned back to him, "I always hated these things as a kid. I was afraid I'd get sucked into them."

Stepping carefully on himself Hotch nodded, "it's not entirely irrational, people do indeed get 'sucked into them.' Well, their clothing and limbs anyway." Wrinkling her nose Emily looked back down to step off at the bottom, "I know, that's why I'm not a huge fan of them as an adult either. In fact this one time . . ."

His mouth twitching Hotch could see that she was about to stop walking again so he shifted his bags and put his arm around her to keep them on a forward momentum the twenty feet to the moving walkways. If she wanted to, she could remain entirely motionless over there. Emily didn't even notice she was being ushered along; she just leaned into his side and started gesturing wildly with her hands as she told him a really disgusting story about an escalator mishap she witnessed at a Metro stop.

Five minutes later, feeling very proud of herself for actually getting a "yuck" out of Hotch for the incident at Dupont Circle, Emily finally took note of the fact that he had his arm around her. Huh. He'd never done that before, not casual walking around arm on shoulder. Also, come to think of it, he'd taken her hand too. It wasn't the first time he'd done that, but again it was the first time he'd done it just casually walking around. Granted all of these actions had been countermeasures in an effort to get her moving more quickly, she knew she was dawdling, but they didn't have to be anywhere, and in the past he would have just scowled at her and that would have been sufficient to get the same result.

Eyes crinkling, her face softened as she glanced over at him, he was getting so much better at physically engaging with her. She was very tactile herself, well with people she liked anyway, and she knew that had been a little bit of an adjustment for him when they first started transitioning from colleagues to actual friends. Hotch had been living in a hermetically sealed bubble for probably his entire adult life. Other humans were not generally issued invitations into his bubble, so she'd been so pleased the first day he'd reached over and touched her arm when they were talking. A simple gesture for anyone else but HUGE progress for someone like Hotch. That first gesture was a little over a month ago and now he'd progressed to _spontaneous_ hand grabbing and arms around shoulders.

Aw! She bit her lip, he must have really missed her too!

She knew that she had missed him much more than she had expected to when she dropped him off at the airport. But he'd been gone for almost five days! That's a long time when you're used to seeing someone every day at work. Weekends are different because you have different routines, but work, you take one of your main everyday people out of your life, well, that sucks. Work was just weird. More than once she started to go to his office to talk to him, and she had to keep making mental notes of things to tell him when he got back. Derek and Reid spilling the toner when they were fighting over the copy machine, Garcia's snakeskin dress, with creepy matching bracelets, important stuff like that.

She shoved her own hands into the front pockets of her shorts. For now she'd let him take the lead on this touching stuff today. These were his issues and consciously or not, she tended to think not, it looked like he may have actually sorted them out. Well, with her at least. One down, six billion to go.

Hotch looked down as Emily shuffled her hands. He just realized he'd had his arm around her for quite some time. And it didn't feel weird. It felt . . . normal. Outside of Jack, he hadn't expressed affection for another person in public in over a year. And before that it was just Haley alone for almost twenty years. Just like the hugging realization last month, he also knew this one was sad too. Though, as he thought about it, there had been intense hugging today also. That was a lot of physical contact. Interesting. He glanced down at her and she looked up with a little smile.

No . . . not interesting . . . good. He smiled a bit to himself as he rubbed her shoulder briefly, yes, very good. As he ran his fingers over her arm he once again took conscious note of her bare skin.

"Aren't you cold walking around half dressed?"

Emily snorted, "Hotch, its 97 degrees outside. What do you want me to wear? A parka?"

Looking down at her Hotch logically pointed out, "it's 97 degrees outside every day in the summer. And usually you're out in the blazing sun in a dark suit wearing fifteen to twenty pounds of hardware."

Simultaneously rolling her eyes in their sockets, and her head onto his chest, she addressed the flaws in his statement.

"Yeah, but that's," she pulled her hands out of her pocket to make air quotes, "'on duty Agent Prentiss,' this," she made a flamboyant gesture down her front, "is 'off duty Emily.'"

Craning his neck slightly to get a better look at 'off duty Emily' Hotch just shook his head as he looked back over the terminal, "you're still Prentiss to me."

And she was, kicking ass, taking names Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, regardless of whether she was dressed in body armor or pigtails. He'd come to see that Emily's strength came from someplace deeper than what was just visible on the surface. Though, as he felt the taut muscles underneath his arm, his eyes crinkled, what was visible was pretty impressive too.

Emily smiled softly at Hotch's response. She knew that was the highest compliment he could pay her. Hotch didn't mother his female agents any more than he did the men. He worried about them all the same. And she'd always appreciated that about him, even in the early days when they were still finding their footing and working on their communication. She never felt as though he didn't trust in her physical abilities as she had sometimes encountered with prior supervisors. The FBI was certainly fully integrated, and moving well into the 21st century, but law enforcement was still a mainly a boys club and occasionally, not often, but occasionally, she would have to work just that much harder with a male supervisor, sometimes older, sometimes not, to prove herself. But she believed that in the end she always earned their respect. And she was proud of that. Proud for the other women that would come after her, maybe they wouldn't have to try so hard to be seen as equal just walking in the door. You should be judged on your individual abilities, not your gender. And she'd met a few men over her years in the FBI that would have been better off selling used cars than carrying a gun.

Figuring Hotch had already more than set the tone for the touchy feely stuff that day, she slipped her hand around his waist as she bopped her head against his chest, "thanks sir."

Smiling softly Hotch patted her arm and they continued walking across the concourse, through the terminals and out to the main entrance. Hotch would of course never be so demonstrative with her on the job, but they were on their own time now and as her small hand had slid around his body, he had decided this new development in their relationship was very okay with him. Beyond the basic heterosexual male response of being more than happy to have a beautiful woman wrapped around him, Hotch had become extremely fond of the time he spent with Emily Prentiss.

She had gone from friendly colleague to close friend over the past couple months, and he thought he was better for the time he had spent with her. He didn't feel so stressed all the time now that he had someone to talk to. Even about the stupid things, like his coffee order getting screwed up or finding a new dry cleaner. She brought him laughter and peace, two things long missing from his life. The smell of her shampoo, her soap, her perfume, those were things he could pick up on now even on other women. Someone would remind him of her and the physiological release of endorphins was the same as if it were her in the room. A Pavlovian response that when it first started happening, he'd given serious consideration. It could be uncomfortable for both of them if he started to develop sexual or romantic feelings for her. But he'd come to realize, his feelings for her weren't either of those things, they were just warm and affectionate. And as Emily smacked his stomach playfully to point out a rather disturbing public display from a couple in the security line, he knew clearly that the feelings were reciprocated on the same level.

"What is _that_ about!? They're clearly getting on the plane TOGETHER! And even if they _weren't_, that's the kind of goodbye best restricted to the car or, better yet, the bedroom. I don't need to see anybody in the airport performing a throat culture with their tongue."

Chuckling, Hotch put his hand up to turn her head as he guided her out the sliding glass doors.

"Just look away Prentiss. You'll burn out your retinas if you stare any harder."

Shaking her head in disgust she let Hotch lead her outside and then he stopped as he took his arm off her shoulder so he could shift his bags.

"Okay, which way?"

Emily dug in her purse to pull out her parking slip, "um, P3," she pointed, "that way."

Hotch started to walk and then realized after ten feet that she wasn't behind him, he turned around and continued walking slowly backwards, "what are you doing?"

Fumbling around in her bag, Emily glanced up, "looking for my keys, I always have them out before I go to the lot."

Hotch stopped walking and smiled softly at her, "that's very good Prentiss, but I think today," he motioned between the two of them, "with us together, it'll be okay if you dig them out on the way to the car." With her hand still in her bag, Emily pursed her lips as she looked at him, "I suppose that's true."

She jogged over to catch up to him, taking his outstretched hand as they kept walking, "you know I'm so ingrained to being by myself all the time I forgot what it's like to not have to constantly be on your guard," she tipped her head, "because you know at work, even if we're all together, we're still in an actively dangerous occupation. And when I'm off duty, well," she rolled her eyes, "single female, can't be too careful."

Hotch squeezed her hand as he looked down to give her a pointed look, "no, you _can't_ be too careful and I want you to continue to adhere to that rule about your keys, car and house, when I'm not around. But right now we're both armed, and off duty, so I think you can relax your guard a little," he quirked up his lip, "I've got your back Prentiss." Smiling she leaned into his side, "thanks sir."

As they crossed the pickups area to short term parking Emily remembered she'd dropped her keys into the outside pocket of her bag so they'd be handy and easily found. She slipped them out with a sheepish grin as Hotch shook his head at her. Their parking level was fairly busy with people coming and going and they twice had to stop to avoid vehicles flying around the corner. Finally getting to the car, Emily hit the locks, Hotch threw his bags in the backseat and then he got into the front passenger seat. It was a little weird not driving. It was different when they were going to the airport because he was distracted, plus he had needed to book his ticket. But now it's like a regular day again.

Emily got in and slammed the door shut, hitting the locks as she looked over at him with a grin, "you really want to drive, don't you?"

Lips twitching Hotch shook his head, "no, it's fine Prentiss. I trust you completely." Eyes crinkling Emily slipped her key into the ignition and put her hand on the gear shaft but stopped as she felt Hotch's hand touch her arm. She looked over.

Hotch looked a little worried, "Prentiss, holding your hand, putting my arm around you, that's not strange, right?"

Emily smiled as she patted his leg, "no, Hotch, it's not strange at all."

Looking relieved Hotch nodded, "okay then," and reached over to grab his seatbelt.

Emily sobered but with her eyes still soft she backed out of the parking spot and began winding their way down to the exit. She glanced over as they were stopped in line behind two other cars waiting to pay.

"You want to get some dinner?"

Hotch chewed his lip as he dug out money for the parking attendant. It was his pickup so he was paying. He handed her a twenty as he responded, "Thai?"

Emily nodded as she accepted the cash, "sounds good."

Then she looked over with a small smile, just staring at him for a moment. She was really glad he was back.

Hotch had been shoving his wallet back into his pocket and he caught her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Turning back he held her gaze for a moment before his mouth twitched.

"I know I agreed to dinner Prentiss but don't go getting any funny ideas. I'm grateful for the pick-up, but all you're getting from me tonight is a free meal."

Emily burst out laughing, "and here I had JUST been thinking how nice it was to have you home!" She playfully threw her sunglasses at him, "I'm taking that thought back you big jerk!"

Dodging the sunglasses, which he set on the dashboard, Hotch smirked as he settled back against the seat.

"Sweet talk isn't going to get you any action either Prentiss."

Her lips twitching Emily threw the car into drive and pulled up to the parking attendant. She muttered to herself as she rolled down her window.

"I think I liked it better when you didn't have a sense of humor."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Like I said, Seinfeld'esque chapter, all they did was walk out of the airport. But it was also a 'touchstone' chapter where Hotch sort of assessed his feelings for her, decided they weren't inappropriate, and that is what enables them to surpass the rest of his basic 'hermetically sealed bubble' issues. Which makes it easier writing because that's no longer something to keep mindful of in this stage of their lives. Affection is freely exchanged on both sides. We'll be moving to other milestones in their relationship next month, plus Jack turns up in early September and that shifts their dynamic as well. But for the rest of August they'll just "be." I do think Hotch's 'touching issues' are canon. Because of all of them, he's always been much more self contained and careful about keeping his distance. And this season he's definitely been, not so much been touchy feely, but less reserved about maintaining that physical separation. _

_Total aside, can you remember the good old days where you could actually meet loved ones at the gate? Yeah, me either. It could be my imagination but I feel like there was a point where you could go to the gate to meet people and drop them off provided you'd gone through security first. Now of course you can't go anywhere past the front door unless you have the ticket. So basically there's no point in getting out of the car :) But that is why I love their federal badges, I can take them anywhere, tickets or not._

_FYI: If you're interested and not yet aware, I put up a new chapter of Horses today._

_Next: __**"Welcome to the Neighborhood"**_


	68. Welcome to the Neighborhood

*******************************************

_Mid-August_

**Welcome to the Neighborhood**

"Do you like Arlington?"

Nodding Emily reached over to grab a chip off of his plate, "yeah, I do actually. It's nice." She waved the chip around, "are you thinking about moving there?"

Hotch blew out a puff of air, "maybe. The realtor showed me a really nice apartment there yesterday. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, fireplace, dining room, eat-in kitchen, and it's a doorman building. I really need to make a decision today because it's going to go quickly."

Frowning, Emily swallowed her bite as she reached over to take another chip, "it sounds great. What's the hesitation?"

Hotch rubbed his hands down his face, "it's so permanent. What if I hate it? I'm signing a lease, I have to stay there."

Eyes twinkling Emily leaned over to rub his shoulder, "Hotch you're not signing a lease with Satan, if you aren't happy there then you can always break it and move somewhere else." She quirked her lip up, "and there will be no penalty stroke of eternal damnation."

Sitting back Hotch glared at her, "thanks."

Her lips twitched, "do you want a second opinion? We could stop by on the way home tonight." she grabbed another chip off his plate, "and then you can buy me dinner."

Pushing the plate towards her Hotch said drolly, "I think I'm already buying you lunch."

Emily scowled, "you said you were done!"

Hotch looked at her incredulously, "no I didn't! I just stopped eating to ask you a question!"

She frowned, "really? I could have sworn you said you were done." Pushing his plate back across the table she gave him a sheepish smile, "sorry."

Hotch's mouth quivered as he looked at her, then he pushed the plate back, "it's okay, you can have them."

Her face lit up as she grabbed another chip, "thanks!"

Huffing Hotch sat back and watched her finish off his lunch. Her appetite never ceased to amaze him. She was always hungry and she never gained a pound. She said she got her metabolism from her mother and that she was waiting for the day it short circuited and she ballooned up to three hundred pounds. She said it _as _she stole the last bite of his meatball sub. His lips twitched, that was the other thing, she was _always_ eating his food.

When they were out with the team she'd make a token effort to not clean his plate after she was done cleaning hers. But he could always tell when she was still hungry by how her eyes would travel around the table. And then he'd slip her some of whatever he had left. He knew Dave had noticed last week but he hadn't said anything. He'd just smirked at him as Emily had finished up his fruit salad. Hotch had glared back at him. She _liked_ the little oranges so there was no reason why she shouldn't _get _the little oranges. He looked back over at her, and she really liked the gourmet sweet potato chips they had here. And even though he'd given her crap for stealing them, that's why he'd only eaten half of them. She'd gotten a salad and he knew she'd be disappointed when she saw he had her favorite side dish. His eyes crinkled as he saw her pop the last one in her mouth, it took very little to keep her happy.

As she took a drink of her diet coke he leaned forward, "so you really don't mind coming with me tonight to look at it?"

She shook her head as she smiled, "nope. I know what a pain it is when you have to make big decisions and you don't have anybody else to ask their opinion." She rolled her eyes, "I bought a new car four years ago. It took me THREE WEEKS to decide which one to get. There are all the stupid options and," she sighed, "is it necessary to have an extra layer of tint added to your windshield?" she threw her hand up lackadaisically, "hell if I know. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted a blue one." She frowned, "and my damn transmission is acting up and the mechanic said it has to be replaced. But I think it might be cheaper in the long run to get a new car than to start replacing everything now." She frowned, "but I really, really don't want to go car shopping again."

Hotch's face softened, "I'll go with you if you want."

She looked up in surprise, "really?"

He nodded, "really, but we'll take your car to my mechanic first and see if he agrees about the transmission." He shrugged, "might as well get a second opinion before you put the money out." He quirked his lip up, "and you know I'm not 'automotively inclined' so it wouldn't do much good for me to look at it."

Emily's lips twitched, he really wasn't 'automotively inclined.' The last time they'd broken down she and JJ had to tell Reid and Hotch how to fix the engine. The girls of course weren't about to get covered in grease. Then when they got back to the office Hotch dumped the Suburban and Tahoe repair guides on Reid's desk and told him to memorize them so they wouldn't get stuck if the women weren't with them. It was funny. Reid walked around the entire week rattling off 'fascinating' comparisons between the two vehicles. Hotch was ready to kill himself.

That was really nice though he offered to go car shopping with her. That's a real pain in the ass favor. She gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks. Nobody's helped me buy a car since my dad took me to pick out my first one when I was seventeen. We'd just gotten back to the States so I was _finally_ able to get my license," she quirked her lip up, "of course the Marines on base were the ones that had taught me how to drive so I failed my first test for 'aggressive driving tendencies,'" she paused as she thought back, "they said something about my language being pretty bad too."

Chuckling Hotch sat back against the seat, "I'll bet."

He had seen her hang out in biker bars, he had no trouble whatsoever picturing a teenage Emily learning the finer points of Marine Corps slang.

She smirked, "hey I taught that instructor at least three new phrases that were going to come in handy the next time he got cut off by a soccer mom driving a mini-van."

Hotch's lips twitched, "you still wreak havoc on the soccer moms driving mini-vans so I can't even imagine how bad you were to them back before you were old enough to have a filter."

Smiling Emily waved her hand in the air to get the check, "those chicks need to toughen up. And you know I only do it if there aren't any kids in the car. As long as I'm not traumatizing minors then it's okay."

Huffing Hotch pulled his wallet out, "pardon me, I didn't realize there was a proper etiquette to the terrorization of your fellow drivers."

Emily slapped twenty bucks down on the table, "apology accepted. And it's my turn to pay so you can put your wallet away."

Hotch frowned at her for a second and she shook her head, "uh, uh, I actually owe you like three lunches so don't even think about trying to pay for anything today." She fluttered her eyes seductively at him, "I'm starting to feel like a kept woman."

Snorting Hotch shoved his wallet back into his pocket, "well we can't have that. Soon you'll start expecting bigger and better things besides potato chips and diet coke."

Emily tilted her head quizzically, "there are better things than potato chips and diet coke?"

Hotch flashed a dimple and she grinned before looking up to hand the waitress the money, "all set. Thanks."

They slid out of the booth and started towards the door, Hotch pulling her out of the way just before she walked into a waiter coming out of the kitchen. She was looking down at her phone. Startled at Hotch yanking her against him, she looked up at him in bewilderment.

"What happened?"

Hotch just looked at her for a second and then huffed as he shook his head, "nothing," he tucked her under his arm as they started towards the door, "nothing at all."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: There will be a couple of chapters related to Hotch's move. And I wasn't going to, but I did decide today to go along with them after work to check out the apartment. So there is a bit of a follow-up here. And this will be Hotch's new place. Like Emily's condo, it will become a new scene backdrop.  
_

_**UNRELATED STORY PIMP**__: I've started a new little case fic. It's coming off as part of my Gilmore Girls crossover, and if you haven't read that story because it just sounds too weird, I understand, but please trust me, it's not :) And actually you don't really need to be familiar with GG to read it either. I'm not telling the story from the point of view any of the characters in GG, they're just kind of extras. I'm only borrowing some characters and locales but it's really a CM story. Hotch and Em are investigating a case out of town and are staying at the Dragon Fly Inn. _

_Next: __**"Unfair Tactics"**_


	69. Unfair Tactics

**Author's Note**: As I said yesterday, this one is a continuation of the same day. Emily accompanies Hotch to look at the new place.

**Companion**: Chp 68. _"Welcome to the Neighborhood"_

_

* * *

Mid-August_

**Unfair Tactics**

Hotch heard Emily squeal from the bathroom.

"GAH! I _LOVE_ THE TUB! OH MY GOD! HOTCH YOU HAVE **GOT** TO GET THIS PLACE!"

The realtor standing beside him smirked and started flipping through his paperwork. Then he looked up.

"Well Mr. Hotchner I guess I'll see you in the living room," and he left the room with a huge grin on his face.

Hotch walked over and shut the bedroom door before scrubbing his hands down his face.

GOD **DAMN** IT! What the HELL was she thinking?

Hearing the clearly oblivious Emily still chattering away in the bathroom, Hotch glared at the open doorway . . . good **God** woman, you are KILLING me!

A second later the assassin in question popped her head out the bathroom door.

"Seriously Hotch did you see this tub? It has JETS!"

As he crossed his arms at his chest Hotch glowered at her.

"You do know the goal in buying a condo is to NOT let the seller know how much you like the place, right?" He asked with disgust, "You do know that? Because that guy," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "heard you exclaiming over the _bathtub_ and he started counting the DOLLAR signs!"

For a moment Emily stared at Hotch in confusion, she suddenly realized what she'd done and winced.

Oh crap.

Still wincing, she crossed the room and stopped in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "I got excited."

Hearing her "apology" Hotch rolled his eyes.

GREAT! She got excited. Well her "excitement" was probably going to add another ten grand to the price of the condo. The condo he had decided that he did indeed wish to buy rather than rent. There was a rental option but Emily, ironically, had convinced him on the way over to just invest in the real estate. And given that he'd brought her with him to check the place out, the realtor had obviously assumed that she was the girlfriend. And if the 'girlfriend' wanted the place that badly, then the realtor knew he had him over a barrel.

Emily had just provided the barrel.

And as that thought came to him again, Hotch's jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Do you know how much money you just cost me?"

Emily her lip before nodding contritely.

"Yes, and I'm sorry," she said softly.

Though she'd expected that her apology would be sufficient, instead of acknowledging it and accepting it, Hotch just stared at her and then Emily saw his jaw twitch right before he looked away. And that's when she realized that he wasn't just annoyed . . . he was genuinely pissed off.

Shit . . . she felt a stab of self loathing . . . God _damn_ it! Why did she have to YELL like that? He brought her along to help, not fuck things up for him. Idiot.

Tipping her head down in an attempt to catch his eyes, Emily again tried to apologize.

"Hotch, I'm really sorry."

And still nothing but ice.

That's when she started to feel a little panicky. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd pissed him off this badly. Probably not since they'd been hanging out together, and she couldn't even remember the last time before that. And she knew how badly she'd just fucked up his negotiations because she'd seen the range the condo was going for and that was a HUGE difference in money. So she had to fix this now, because otherwise he could easily stay mad for a couple days.

That meant no coffee, no lunch, no talking. No Hotch!

No, no, no . . . she shouted in her head . . . that was _completely_ unacceptable!

So she pulled out the big gun.

As she ran her hand down his arm she pouted sadly at him, "you forgive me?"

She knew the pout was a little unfair but these were desperate times.

Hotch snapped his jaw shut as he looked down . . . damn it! That pout killed him every time! It was worse than 'the eyes.' And she'd skipped right over the eyes so she had to have known how angry he was.

He snuck another glance . . . damn, still there!

His eyes dropped down to the floor as he took a breath and tried to calm down.

So what had actually just happened? She'd seen something she liked and acted like she would have on any other day. He was already more than aware that she had a tendency to get excited about new things. He sighed . . . and her enthusiasm was one of his favorite things about her. So how was he supposed to get pissed off about it now? That was part of her. A part of her that he wouldn't change . . . so fine, she was forgiven.

He glanced down, making eye contact with her before he tipped his head slightly.

Apology accepted. But that didn't change the fact that she had just cost him a SHITLOAD of money. So Hotch decided, pout or no pout, he just wanted to stay mad for five more minutes.

Was that so much to ask?

And then he felt her press her body against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered against his throat, "and I'll make it up to you. I promise."

As hard as it was to resist putting his arms around her, Hotch stuck firm with his decision to stay angry . . . he closed his eyes . . . regardless of how nice she smelled.

Emily frowned as she realized from the lack of reciprocal hugging that though she may technically have been forgiven, she was still clearly in the doghouse.

Oh no mister, that is _not_ good enough!

So she went for broke, turning her face into his neck and breathing out a little unhappy sigh against his skin. If this didn't work she didn't know what she'd do. Maybe just pin him to the ground until he saw things her way. Though . . . she wasn't sure if she could pin Hotch. Crap. She probably couldn't.

Damn it this better work!

Hearing the pathetic sigh as a puff of Emily's warm breath hit his throat, Hotch groaned.

Apparently five minutes of being angry _was_ too much to ask. She just did not play fair! The only thing she hadn't done yet was cry. And though he was fairly sure she wouldn't do that, he couldn't risk it.

For his ego's sake though he attempted thirty more seconds of trying to be angry before he finally hugged her back.

His arms came around her and as he rubbed his hand down her back he sighed in exasperation.

"It's all right. You don't have to do anything," he shook his head, "just forget it."

Emily smiled against his neck . . . there, all better. And one more thing will get them back to normal. She leaned back and looked up at him quizzically.

"Okay, so now I _don't_ have to sleep with the realtor?"

She just needed a smile.

Hotch's lips twitched, "uh no, I don't think that will be necessary."

This is why she made it impossible to stay mad.

Emily wrinkled her nose, "that's good. Because he looks a little like my Uncle Andrew, and that would be icky."

Hotch wrinkled his nose back as he smirked at her, "yeah that would be icky." And Emily smiled at him as she patted his cheek.

Smile achieved . . . everything was back to normal.

Now that the air had been cleared, Hotch stepped back, keeping his hand on her hip as he gave her a mock scowl.

"You don't play fair you know. Did you even have tricks left besides actual crying?"

Her eyes crinkled, "no I was pretty much tapped out." She bit her lip, "but you were mad at me, and," she tipped her head apologetically, "I did really screw you over, so you could have conceivably been upset for a couple days. And I didn't want you to be angry at me for a couple days." She frowned, "I didn't want you to be angry at me at all."

He looked at her little frown and huffed. Then he took her hand and started leading her out of the bedroom. He still had to go deal with the realtor and they'd already been gone awhile. Eh . . . he sighed to himself . . . maybe renting was the way to go.

So much for 'real estate.' Then a thought came to him and he looked back down at Emily as he said sarcastically.

"You know, I don't much like being upset with you either so how about you don't do stuff to piss me off and then we'll both be happy?"

Emily snorted as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Novel approach sir, but we both know that's NEVER gonna happen."

_

* * *

A/N 2: I realized as I was writing this that I've never had Hotch "glower" before. And that's a good word! He glowers all the time. I was watching some episode yesterday, he glowered through the entire thing. So I'm definitely going to have to start rolling it in on occasion. _

_Funny, I got the idea for this story all of a sudden yesterday, I write it really quickly and walk away. Then later I'm like 'wait, in The Hours did Hotch own a condo or did he rent?' Because I specifically remembered writing a chapter where he got rid of his apartment (when Jack and Emily were making cupcakes) and I couldn't remember if it was a sublet or he was selling it. So I had to go back and look. _

_SUBLET! _

_It was quite the 'oy' moment because The Hours already exists, so I do make myself follow the guidelines set forth there. It's like 'Girl Canon' :) So for a second I was thinking I'd have to scrap this chapter. Then it occurred to me, maybe there was an option to rent! I don't know if that's a real thing but I feel like it is, somewhere, maybe. So I added in a line and the chapter was saved! Which was really fortunate because I still haven't decided which chapter I'm putting up next. It'll either be my last summer canon episode for Catching Out, or bar trivia night at O'Leary's. The bar trivia one isn't quite done yet, that's the problem. And I presume you'd rather have me put up something than nothing, yes? Thought so._

_So the next one shall be a surprise. For me too!_


	70. ¿Qué Te Dijo Ella?

**Author's Note**: Starting totally off topic, I put up a new story today, The Middle Ground. It's a post ep for Demonology. I also updated the Aaron & Emily case fic. Horses will be updated tomorrow.

Okay, so this is a missing scene from the one he one where Morgan tackled the train. And if that doesn't ring a bell, then it's one with the train hopping guy with the nasty rash on his face. So they finally caught up with that guy's brother at one of the 'quadrillas,' (don't know if those are a real thing, didn't look it up for proper spelling), but I got the impression that wasn't the first one they'd gone to. It would have been pretty amazing if it was. So this would be a scene from earlier in the day, at a different camp.

Very special thanks to Ecda for assisting me with the Spanish translation of this chapter title. My Spanish is like 'Tin Man left out in the rain' rusty, and I can no longer conjugate in the past tense. But damn it, we shouldn't live in the past anyway!

Seriously though, I couldn't write it properly, so Ecda was very sweet and translated it for me. In English it's "what did she say to you?"

Muchas Gracias Ecda!

*******************************************

_Episode – Catching Out_

_Mid-August_

**¿Qué Te Dijo Ella?**

Hotch hung up his call with Dave and stood to the side watching Emily interviewing the members of the work camp in their native language.

Thus far they'd learned nothing useful towards helping them apprehend the UNSUB, but Hotch still felt the same swell of pride he always did when her linguistic abilities were called into play on a case. Though he knew he personally had no part in her acquiring these particular skills, she was still, _his. _And just like Garcia pulling an invisible thread out of cyberspace, or Reid discovering an esoteric connection between two otherwise unrelated pieces of information, this was a special skill that only she brought to their team.

Without her presence, they would be diminished.

And at that moment she glanced over at him with a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks before she turned back quickly to the young woman with whom she had been speaking.

He furrowed his brow. What was that about?

He knew that they'd been spending a lot of time together, but could Emily now read his thoughts from ten feet away? If so, that could be a problem.

She quickly finished up the interview with that polite smile Hotch had come to know meant 'get me the hell out of here' so he walked over to collect her before somebody else caught her attention. Maybe she just needed a break. They been at this for three hours, and though it might have been a beautiful day in California, the sun was beating down.

Not saying anything he put his hand on her shoulder as he guided her over to one of the few trees that were throwing any shade. As they walked along she started digging in her bag for her water bottle. A bottle which was now completely empty. And she gave it a slight pout as she shook it upside down. As though it's lack of ability to provide her hydration was a personal affront.

Watching the crestfallen look she gave the inanimate object, Hotch bit his lip as he handed her his own bottle. There wasn't much left but it was better than nothing. And the smile he received in thanks was enough to allow some of the tension to finally start to leak out of his neck. He was starting to think he was never going to have full swivel motion again. But as was usually the case now, as soon as he was alone with her, he could feel himself begin to relax. He wasn't giving that realization much concern, he was just accepting it for what it was, an occasional bit of light in the long dark tunnel he had previously allowed his life to become. And she brought more light to the tunnel all the time.

Emily took a sip from Hotch's bottle, leaving a bit leftover for him when she was done. She could feel the shift in him after they walked away from the group. He was getting better about relaxing with her off the clock, but on the job he was still just as wound up as he ever was. And their jobs were hard enough as it was without him placing these ridiculous standards on himself.

On the rare occasion that someone on the team screwed up, he was understanding and sympathetic, usually even while that person was technically being reamed out. That was a special skill of his. But, while he could always find compassion for the human foibles within the rest of them, he was impossibly demanding of himself. So she was glad to see him depressurize slightly as they silently cooled off for a moment under the apple tree. She often thought it must be an intolerable weight simply to slip on those crisp dark suits every day. She had her own array of dark suits, but they were practical, a requirement to be taken seriously working in a man's world. She occasionally varied her wardrobe on the job though, if circumstances dictated.

But not Hotch, it was as though his suits were the costume required to transform him from the man, Aaron Hotchner, to the superhuman law enforcement specimen of Supervisory Special Agent in Charge, Aaron Hotchner. She almost smiled as she thought about getting him a gabardine cape for Christmas to complete the outfit.

Hotch watched Emily's eyes begin to twinkle and his own crinkled in response.

"Something amusing Agent Prentiss?"

Blushing slightly, she shook her head and took another tiny sip from his bottle, "no sir."

The pink tinge reminded Hotch of her earlier reaction when she was interviewing that woman. He pursed his lips.

"Prentiss, that last woman you were speaking to before we came over here, what did she say to you?"

Now she turned bright pink . . . this was very interesting. Hotch had to fight the appearance of the dimples simply at his amusement over her reaction. But she still wasn't answering him so he gave her his most stern look.

"Prentiss . . ."

Emily responded with a meek, "sir" hoping that if she pretended like this was the first thing he'd said in five minutes, that perhaps he would forget his inquiry of a moment ago. Given she was now getting a raised eyebrow; she could see this approach wasn't going to work.

Why was she being so evasive? That wasn't like her. This had to be something good. So Hotch very clearly annunciated once more.

"What . . . did . . . she . . . say?"

Emily rubbed her hand over her mouth as she responded unintelligibly.

Hotch crossed his arms as he replied drolly, "I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't quite hear you what with your hand covering your mouth. I'm not sure if you're aware, but that severely limits the projection of your voice."

Emily took in his stance and knew he was about thirty seconds away from giving her a direct order, or tossing her in front of a combine. Either or. So she sighed before trying one last bit of misdirection.

"She said, "su jefe es mucho bonito."

Narrowing his eyebrows dangerously, Hotch tipped his head to the side, "Prentiss, you know my Spanish is limited to 'burrito' or 'quesadilla' so English translation please before I decide maybe _you_ should be the one to take Reid out for target practice next week."

Emily's eyes widened in fear, "you wouldn't?"

"Try me."

She could see he was serious so she just blurted it out, "she said 'your boss is very pretty!'"

Emily almost burst out laughing at the recoil on his face before he sputtered, "PRETTY! She called me PRETTY!?"

"Yes, sir," Emily cleared her throat, "she called you pretty, not handsome, not attractive, but pretty."

Hotch exhaled slowly, well, he didn't much _care_ for the comment, but, he'd certainly been called worse. Then he thought back to the blush on Emily's cheeks during the exchange with the woman. That remark wouldn't have been enough to embarrass _her_. There had to be something else.

He raised a bemused eyebrow, "so after she said _that_, what did _you_ say?"

Emily smiled as she handed him back his water bottle and started walking backwards towards the Suburban.

His jaw quivering, Hotch tried not to smile at her pathetic attempt at escape.

Where did she think she was going? He had the keys.

With his mouth still twitching, he yelled at her, "Prentiss! Answer me!"

Emily looked behind her . . . the SUV was five feet away . . . she figured she was at a minimum safe distance now. She turned to him, her eyes sparkling as she yelled back.

"I had to agree Hotch! You do have _lovely_ cheekbones!"

*******************************************

_A/N 2: He does have lovely cheekbones. And in his younger, Chicago Hope days, he was a bit of a pretty boy. I think he looks much better now. Though hi def does show terrible circles under his eyes! Not that I think they diminish his attractiveness, but they're noticeable. But then I read an article that apparently he lives in Texas, but works in California. It's like a four hour flight and he commutes every weekend. So then the circles kind of made sense, they're probably filming at the beginning or end of the week and he's exhausted. Because every once in a while, they aren't there, and he looks like five years younger. So it's not that he's getting older, apparently he just needs more sleep. But I guess that kind of works for playing workaholic Hotch anyway._

_Arc has put in a request for Emily to get the gabardine cape for him for Christmas. I actually haven't written any Christmas chapters yet, so, perhaps :)_

_And this was the last canon episode until they go to Vegas for The Instincts, which won't be until November. Next up, bar trivia!_

_I do so love reviews folks :)  
_

_Next: "__**Fools Night Out**__"_


	71. Fools Night Out

**Author's Note**: Sorry no post yesterday, real life took precedence. But now, part one of the two part after work outing.

And again, I am way behind on basically everything in my life so I've sent out maybe three review thank yous in the past two days. Sorry! So group thanks, and personal notes hopefully to follow :)

*******************************************

_Mid-August_

**Fools Night Out**

"Come on, we're leaving!"

Hotch looked up to see Emily anxiously standing in his doorway. He sighed, she was not going to be happy about this.

"Prentiss I can't go."

And as expected her face immediately fell and he felt like a complete jerk for disappointing her.

She pouted, "but Hotch, you _promised_."

He gave her a look, "_no_, I didn't promise. I very specifically did _not _promise, I said, I would 'try.' And I'm sorry," he shook his head, "but I just can't leave now."

Furrowing her brow, Emily came over to his desk to see what he was working on . . . just routine paperwork. Mostly just signatory approvals from the looks of them. Frowning she looked back up at him, "why can't you do these tomorrow?"

He put down his pen, "because I want to get them done tonight. There's a possibility that tomorrow afternoon Rossi and I will have to meet with the Chief from Newport News P.D. and I want to get all caught up before that happens."

Emily rolled her eyes, "you just said it's only a 'possibility' that you're having this meeting. And, even if you do have it, though again, clearly there's no guarantee that you will, Newport News is like forty minutes away so it's not like you'd be losing half the day traveling. PLUS," she put major emphasis on the last word as she got more animated, "you've already been working for ELEVEN hours!" She raised her eyebrow sarcastically, "are you actually _trying _to kill yourself? Because please let me know now so I can start perusing your office supplies." She jerked her head, "that's a nice staple remover, maybe you could leave it to me in your will."

He scowled at her and then looked back down at what he had spread out on his desk. Okay . . . she might have a small point. None of this was urgent. And that meeting was pretty iffy, plus, she was correct, he had already put in more than a full day. If he stayed until he finished everything that would be his third night this week where he pulled a twelve hour shift. He sighed, and he really needed to stop doing that. If he didn't start dialing it down a little then one of these days the cleaning crew was going to find him slumped over the desk.

He again ran his eyes over the stacks of papers on his desk, making sure he wasn't missing anything important. Then he saw one small stack in particular. He bit his lip . . . he really should review those though. He looked back up at her.

"Okay, fine you win," his eyes crinkled at the huge grin she flashed, and he put his hand up, trying to settle her down slightly before she got too excited.

"BUT, I need to run through these vacation requests real quick. Some of them have been sitting on my desk for two weeks and they'll probably be coming up shortly."

Emily nodded, "okay, far be it from me to screw up anyone's vacation." She gave him a happy grin, "and those shouldn't take long so I'll wait."

He started shaking his head, "no, you go ahead and I'll catch up. Because if you wait then you'll start talking to me and I'll get distracted and then we'll sit here for an hour while I go through a stack of paperwork that should have taken me ten minutes to finish. You go ahead," he gave her a little smile, "order me a beer ten minutes after you get there and I _promise_," he very particularly used the word that time, "I'll be walking through the door two minutes later."

Frowning slightly she stared down at his desk. He might have a small point about being a distraction when he was trying to work. It was fine if they were both busy, but he was right, whenever she was sitting around waiting for him after hours she got bored. And then she'd start talking to him. And he'd say something back, and yada, yada, yada, it always took them twice as long to get out of the building than it would have if she'd just kept her mouth shut and let him work. She gave a reluctant nod.

"Okay, I guess you're right," then she gave him a hard look, "but twenty minutes mister! If you're not there by then I'm coming back and dragging you out of here by the scruff of your neck."

Hotch's lips twitched, "understood."

Her face softened, "seriously Hotch, please don't stay too much longer." She gave him a little smile, "it's more fun when you're there."

She still had a good time with just the team, but she had more fun doing most things now if Hotch was there too. And she'd been looking forward to this all week. It was the first time they'd both been out drinking with the team in months. Usually she went for a beer and then came back to drag him out at nine o'clock to go get something to eat. He wasn't quite as bad as he used to be, but there was no denying that he was still a workaholic.

His eyes crinkled, "okay, and I promise you I will be there within a half hour."

She smiled, "good," she started to leave and Hotch called out, "Prentiss wait." She turned back and pulled out his wallet, digging around before handing her one of his credit cards, "here, first round on me." His eyes twinkled, "and now you know for sure that I'm coming because there's no way I'd trust you with my debit card for an extended period. You and JJ will call in sick tomorrow and go shopping on my dime."

Slipping the card into her bag, she shook her head, "don't be silly sir, we wouldn't need to actually call out sick to do that." She looked back up, "that's what the Internet is for," she smirked, "identity theft."

Hotch's lips twitched, "go away."

Her eyes crinkled, "see you in a bit."

He watched her go and then shook his head before turning back to see how long Agent Ramirez would be away for his honeymoon.

//////////////////

Emily spotted Hotch walking through the door four minutes after she ordered his beer. He ignored her for a second as he exchanged hellos with the rest of the team, plus Kevin and Will. Then he looked down at her and his eyes crinkled. Emily smirked at him as he put his bag down on the floor, "you're two minutes late."

Smirking back he dropped down next to her in the booth, "oh, well then I guess I shouldn't have taken the time to sign off on an Agent Emily Prentiss' vacation request."

She stared at him blankly for a moment before she raised her eyebrow in confusion, "where am I going?" He huffed, "I don't know Prentiss, there isn't a 'destination' line on the form." He tipped his head, "do you not remember putting one in? Because it was definitely your handwriting."

Wrinkling her brow, she stared at the table for a moment and then looked back up, "oh wait, I know what that was," she shook her head, "you can rip it up. I was supposed to go to my folks place on the Cape for a couple days for a family vacation but," she rolled her eyes, "my mother cancelled because of some fundraiser she wants to go to now."

Hotch could see the disappointment under the annoyance and he discreetly slipped his hand under the table to squeeze her hand. He liked her mother, but he also wished he was in a position to say something to her about Emily. This was the third time this summer they'd had plans to get together and she'd cancelled them. And though Emily feigned annoyance, he could tell she was actually more hurt than anything else.

He raised his eyebrow, "why can't you just go up with your father?" She bit the inside of her cheek, "you know I hadn't thought of that. I don't know. I guess maybe I could if he still wanted to go." Her face softened a bit, "that would be fun. I haven't spent any time with just my dad in . . ."

She stopped as she suddenly flashed on her post-op care when she was fifteen. She swallowed hard, "uh, well, a long time."

Hotch looked at her oddly for second, something had just shifted in her eyes. Something bad. But given how quickly she shook it off, clearly she didn't want to talk about it, so he just patted her arm, "well why don't you give him a call tomorrow and then let me know about the time off." He tipped his head, "either way, you work too much anyway so you should probably just take the long weekend regardless."

Snorting she reached over to grab a nacho off the plate in the middle of the table, "pots and kettles sir."

A ghost of a smile flittered across his face. She definitely nailed him there. But he was taking a couple days off for his move so that was something. Not exactly a vacation, but, he wouldn't be at work. And that, in and of itself, was a big deal for him.

He looked up as the waitress put his beer down on the table, and Emily started to tell her to close out the tab, this was the first round that was on his card, but he shook his head, "no that's okay, leave it open."

As the waitress walked away Emily looked over suspiciously at him, "what's up with you throwing your money around Daddy Warbucks?"

He felt his face get a little warm, "ah, I just haven't been out in awhile so I thought maybe, um . . ."

And he stopped completely, realizing he was just getting more embarrassed as he tried to explain himself. He actually hadn't been out drinking after work in months, possibly since that night he and Emily went to Anacostia. Emily had in fact had to cajole him for a couple days to get him to give _tentative_ agreement to join them for bar trivia night. And it wasn't until he was on his way over that he realized he really had absolutely no excuse for not socializing with them more. He'd made all of these promises to himself about turning over a new leaf, and he had made some progress, huge progress with Emily actually, but not with the rest of them. And he wasn't racing home to Haley and Jack anymore so really, why couldn't he be bothered to go out with them for a beer once or twice a month? Just to be nice and talk about something besides work.

But now that Emily had called him out for paying he felt like he was trying to buy their affection. And that was just wrong. You either invest the time in the relationships or you don't. You don't get to be a good guy by throwing around some money every six months and think that's the same thing. Because it's not.

Puzzled, Emily watched as Hotch started to squirm in his seat. Why was he so embarrassed? She gave a quick look around to see if anyone else was paying attention, not really. Dave was in the bathroom and the rest of them were doing practice trivia questions. They had a little privacy so she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"What's the matter? Why do you look so uncomfortable?"

He looked at her for a second, debating how stupid he'd look if he told what his problem was. Then he figured screw it, the one thing he could always count on from Emily was a straight answer. She'd be nice about it, but she'd tell him the truth. And he didn't want to sit here for the entire night worrying that the team thought he was an asshole.

He leaned back over and whispered, "do you think anybody would be offended if I paid tonight? Because I realized on the way over I should be spending more time with them, so I felt badly about that and I wanted to make it up to them. But I don't want anyone to think that I'm trying to buy them off."

Emily gave him a soft smile before she said quietly, "Hotch, nobody would think that. They know you were having a bad time. They certainly didn't take it personally because you weren't coming to hang out on Thursday nights," she tipped her head, "if you want to pay just because you feel guilty you haven't been around, then fine. I'm Catholic, I understand guilt. But I want you to know, it's not necessary," she smiled, "they'll still love you even if you don't give them free beer," then she winked, "but I suppose they might love you a little more if you do."

Hotch could feel some of his anxiety begin to dissipate. And he thought about what Emily had said, maybe he could compromise a little. He looked back at her questioningly.

"How about I keep the tab open and then just tell everyone else they can cover the tip?"

He knew between the food and the bar tab for nine people the tip alone was going to be pretty big.

She patted his knee, "if that's what you want to do then that sounds fine." He nodded slightly, "okay," then his eyes crinkled, "thanks."

She winked, "no problem, you know I love me some free beer."

His lips twitched before he turned his attention back to the other end of the table listening to Garcia and Reid throw questions at each other. Trivia night. He'd heard epic tales of it before, but he'd never been there to see it. Apparently just having Reid on their team did not make them infallible. And Lynch and Garcia couldn't get over that fact. Those were usually the conversations he'd walk in on the next morning in the break room. How Reid could have missed this question or that question. But to Hotch it made sense, just because he was a genius didn't mean he actually knew _everything_. He just retained more information at a faster rate. But if he'd never learned the fact to begin with, well, then he was just as completely ignorant as the next person. But some days it really did seem like he did know everything, so the perception held that it was true.

Looking up Hotch saw Dave coming back to the table. And that's when he realized he'd grabbed the only empty seat, which had to have been Dave's. He started to stand up.

"Sorry Dave, I'll go grab a chair."

Rossi waved his hand dismissively, "please, sit." Then he went over and very politely sweet talked the table of young ladies next to them. He was over there for awhile. But finally, at least three minutes later he came back with a chair, and a phone number. Hotch and Emily had identical smirks on their face as they saw the slip of paper. He scowled at them.

"She's a fan of my books!"

Hotch's lips twitched and Emily snorted, well, this was just too good to keep to themselves. She poked Derek on her other side, pulling him from his conversation with Will. When he turned to look at her she jerked her head to the other table.

"Rossi just took that redhead's phone number because she was a quote, unquote 'fan of his books.'"

Leaning back Morgan eyed the girl before he grinned at Dave, "you old dog!" Rossi opened his mouth to yell but Emily cut him off, "uh, uh, if she was _just_ a fan then you would have said thank you and walked away. If she was just a fan, then she did not have any reason to give you her number," her eyes twinkled, "and even if she did, you did not have any reason to take it."

Rossi rolled his eyes and dropped his chair down at the end of the table muttering to himself, "God damn kids think they know everything."

Mostly that was an unintelligible mumble, but Hotch was closest so he heard him clearly and he chuckled. Then he had to repeat it for Emily when she poked his side asking what Rossi had said. Emily grinned, leaning over Hotch to pat Dave's arm as she said quietly, "thanks for calling me kid. You know I'm going to be forty this year."

She never lied about her age, but she didn't like to advertise it in mixed company either. Especially in a room for of twenty-somethings, they made her feel old.

Dave's annoyance melted away as he quirked his lip up, "honey, I'd kill to be forty again." Then he reached over to grab his beer from Hotch's other side, taking a swig before he started talking to JJ again. She and Will were looking at houses and she'd been asking Dave his opinion on the real estate market.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she pulled back, brushing her breasts against Hotch's arm as she settled in the booth. Anyone else she would have apologized, or probably made more of an effort not to touch him at all. But they now were in each other's physical space so often she barely took note of it.

Hotch flicked his eyes over to her as she picked up her beer. With the exception of the night of Derek's party, where they'd stopped in for twenty minutes and were separated the whole time, this was the first time they'd been out with the team since they'd started hanging out together. And their personal interactions _off_ duty, were very different than their personal interactions _on_ duty. Of course they didn't have to be as formal as they were at work, but still they couldn't be as 'familial' with one another as they were when it was just the two of them.

And though he didn't _mind_ her half in his lap as she talked to Dave, it probably didn't look good. And also, he didn't know what to do with his arm! He wanted to put it on the booth, but Emily was right there, and it would look like he was putting his arm around her. And knowing her, five minutes after he did it she'd lean into his side to say something and then he really would have his arm around her. He just didn't think they should be doing stuff like that, even if it was just in front of the team.

Biting his lip he reached over to pick up his beer. They probably should have talked about this before, but it hadn't occurred to him until he was sitting next to her how much their off duty relationship had changed. He put his beer down and then patted her arm.

"When does the trivia start?"

Emily looked down at her watch, "eh, five minutes maybe, usually around eight." Then she looked back up at him and saw the look he was giving her. Something was bothering him. She raised her eyebrow and he jerked his head slightly. Okay, he wanted to talk but not here. She quirked her lip up before she took another swig of her beer and bumped him with her hip. Then she said loudly, "come on sir, I want to dance." They slipped out of the booth, and she tucked her arm through his as they went down to the dance floor. As always it was fairly packed and he pulled her to the other side of the crowd, out of direct view of the team. He pulled her against him and she sighed as she put her head on his chest, "okay, what's the matter?"

He patted her back, "this," she brought her head up and looked at him questioningly, "what?"

She looked so confused he felt badly for bringing it up. Their personal relationship, their affection for one another, and how they demonstrated it, had become so ingrained that it was second nature now. Once they were off the clock, they were allowed to be themselves, and now he needed to put some barriers back up.

He felt like a jerk.

He gave her a soft smile, trying to lessen the blow, "we can't interact like we usually do off duty. We're out with the team, we need to maintain a little distance." Pushing back slightly she looked a little hurt, "so what? We're stuck on 9-5 rules when we're out with them?"

Hotch winced slightly, "well, it probably would be for the best if we were."

Pouting slightly she looked down. But, that was gonna suck. And it was going to be really hard too. She had two versions of her relationship with Hotch, on duty and off duty. She didn't want to be 'on duty' when they were out _supposedly_ relaxing. She liked _her_ off duty Hotch. She didn't want him bottled back up again. Looking around to make sure they were hidden from view she sighed as she put her head back on his chest. If a couple minutes was all she was getting she might as well make the best of it.

Hotch saw the pout, and he heard the sigh, and unlike the last time when those two items had made their appearance, he knew she wasn't manipulating him. She was genuinely disappointed. And now he felt worse. He hated making her unhappy. He put his head on her chin, "_well_, maybe we can loosen up the rules a little bit." He felt her smile against his chest, "really?"

He rubbed his hand down her back as he thought about it, "yeah, but only a little bit." She looked up at him, "like what?" He twisted his jaw back and forth before he looked down, "no arms around shoulders, no hand holding, no kissing on the cheek," he gave her a look, "really no kissing anywhere, chaste distance on the dance floor, and lastly . . ." he braced himself, "no hugging."

Horrified, she stopped dancing and looked up at him, "but . . . but Hotch! That's EVERYTHING!"

He shook his head as he pulled her over to the wall, "no it's not, we can still, um, sit next to each other."

And he didn't need to see the look on her face to know how incredibly lame that sounded. He'd known it before the words were even out of his mouth. She was right, that was basically everything. He sighed, damn it, why did this have to be so complicated? They were just friends, they weren't doing anything wrong, so they shouldn't have to keep their 'relationship' under wraps.

Emily could see his gears were grinding so she just let them go. She knew that he liked their more open relationship as much as she did. And he wouldn't be any more pleased about lopping off that part of it than she was. Though, she did agree he had a point, they couldn't be quite as comfortable in front of the team as they were when they were alone. But still, he was going way overboard. There was a happy medium, one they could live with, now she just had to let him figure out what it was. He was the one with the major concerns so he needed to be the one that worked them out. He snapped his eyes back down to hers. And apparently he just did. She quirked her lip up.

"Lay them on me sir."

His eyes crinkled, "okay, no kissing, no hugging, chaste distance on the dance floor," he flashed a dimple, "everything else is back in play."

He'd thought it over and he knew the others occasionally put their arms around each other, or the girls would sometimes grab the guys' hands. So, just because it was him and her instead of _them_, well, that didn't mean they needed stricter rules. Yes, their professional relationship meant they had to be more mindful of their interactions at work, but the team was family. And they shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable with family. They wouldn't jump to conclusions because there were no conclusions to jump to. That was one benefit of almost all of their friends being profilers. They could read their behavior and know it for what it was.

She flashed him a brilliant grin, "YAY!

He tried to temper her enthusiasm a little as he gave her a stern look, "but don't forget in mixed company regular rules. These are only for when it's just the team," he jiggled his head, "and I guess Kevin and Will." They were both out tonight and he knew that Garcia and JJ would correct them if they made any false inferences.

Smiling brightly, Emily took advantage of the new decree by slipping her hand into his, "I know, and I'll be careful if anyone else is around," then she tugged on his hand.

"Now come on, it's trivia time."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Good place for a cut. And though I could technically end their evening here because we addressed the 'relationship hurdle of the week,' we will still be covering some actual trivia on trivia night. Tfm gave me some awesome questions and I can't let them go to waste!_

_I'm not 100% I'll be posting here tomorrow. Though I have a loose outline in my head, the next section isn't actually written yet. And I have two other chapters that are jockeying for attention in my brain right now. I have to go with what comes because it's just easier if you don't fight it :) Fortunately though one of the chapters is a Girl one that was going to be coming very shortly anyway. _

_And I should mention at this point, Girl postings may get a little bit more irregular going forward. Not a major slow down, but perhaps every other day. Though I still have dozens and dozens written, as I get to them, I'm now seeing opportunities to follow up on certain events. So if that happens then there may be a slight delay. So yes, you might have to wait a little bit, BUT, in the long run you actually get more chapters than you would have otherwise. Hopefully that's a fair trade off :)_

_And if you're interested in the Jack Countdown, he should be showing up about five chapters from now. He and Emily meet the first weekend in September. That's all written :)_

_Next: "__**Death Match: Prentiss vs. Reid**__"_


	72. What a Difference A Year Makes

**Author's Note**: Yes, I'm posting, BUT, there is a substitution. Instead of our regularly scheduled programming I'm putting up a different chapter. My 'witty, clever muse' is not in the mood to write and there was just no way I could get the other chapter done. It wasn't even on the horizon! And rather than pushing it off for another day or so, knowing full well it still wouldn't get done because then it would start to feel like a chore, I figured it would be easier to just move on.

That said, you _are_ still getting 'Deathmatch.' I promise! Trivia night is a regular occurrence, so as soon as the muse becomes cooperative, I'll insert it as a later chapter. I'm actually light on early September stuff so that works well anyway.

So apologies if you were looking forward to the geek off, hopefully you won't be too disappointed with what you're getting instead :)

And side note, as I eventually had to start doing in The Hours, I'm going to start tagging the days of the week here. As I begin doing back to back chapters covering more little story arcs that will be more helpful (for me anyway). For timing purposes, yesterday's trip to the bar was 'Wednesday night,' now it's 'Thursday night' same week. This is the first of a two parter.

_

* * *

Late August: Thursday_

**What A Difference A Year Makes**

"I can't sleep."

Hotch yawned into his cell phone, "what's wrong?"

Emily rolled over in bed, pulling her knees up as she pouted.

"I feel really crappy."

Brow wrinkling in concern, Hotch pushed himself out of the armchair he'd fallen asleep in a few hours earlier.

"Was it something you ate?"

He continued to probe Emily's symptoms as he padded into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Emily shook her head even though Hotch couldn't see her.

"No, everything aches and my throat is sore and scratchy."

Hearing Emily's s response, Hotch paused with the glass halfway to his mouth.

"Do you have a fever?"

_'Please say no,_' he thought to himself as he took a sip of water.

But unfortunately Emily came back with a confirmation.

"Yeah, I think maybe yes. I just felt my cheek and my skin's really hot and I couldn't stand the blankets."

Hotch was starting to get a little concerned. There was a bug going around the Academy and he knew of two agents that had ended up in the hospital because of it. But he didn't want to worry Emily needless so he just told her to take her temperature and he'd wait on the phone. So as Emily went off to dig out her thermometer, Hotch finished his water before going in to brush his teeth.

He'd been sleeping at least an hour before the phone woke him up and he had that yuck taste in his mouth. And he figured as long as she couldn't talk he might as well address a similarly non-vocal activity.

As he was rinsing out his mouth he heard the little beeping sound of the thermometer come through the phone. And then that was followed a second later by Emily's, "oh crap."

His eyes narrowed as he dropped his toothbrush back in the holder.

"How high is it?" He asked worriedly. And then he heard her come back again, this time almost in tears.

"103.6. . . oh Hotch, that's bad."

Shit . . . he winced . . . that was very bad. He spun around, hurrying back into the bedroom as he spoke urgently into the phone.

"Get dressed Prentiss, I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said as he grabbed his sneakers out of the closet, switching the phone to his shoulder as he started yanking them on.

"We're going to the hospital."

/*/*/*/*/*

Fortunately it was late on a weeknight and there wasn't any traffic on the road so Hotch made the short drive to Emily's house in record time. He might have been wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he had remembered his badge which he flashed at the startled doorman as he ran past, yelling, "going to number forty-two."

Then he jogged up the four flights to her apartment.

Hotch was slightly breathless as he knocked on Emily's door . . . the stairwell was hot and humid. Ten seconds later, Emily pulled it open, bouncing on one foot as she tried to pull on her sneaker. Not unexpectedly . . . to Hotch's experienced anyway . . . she nearly lost her balance as she stepped back and he had to grab her arm before she toppled over.

He shook his head.

"Okay, I know we're already going to the ER but let's try not to break any bones on the way out the door."

Appreciating his attempt at levity . . . but unable to actually relax at all . . . Emily gave Hotch a tight smile as she moved over to perch on the end of the couch and tie up her lace.

Six months ago she never would have bothered him just because she didn't feel good, but now he was the first person she thought to call to make her feel better.

It hadn't occurred to her she was really sick.

Hotch went over and felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

Damn it, she was really hot. And her eyes looked glassy, she was definitely sick. He tucked her hair behind her ear, waiting until she looked up at him before he gave her a little smile.

"It's okay. It's just a fever, but it is a little high so we should make sure you get checked now before it gets out of hand. They'll look you over, give you some pills and send you home," he gave her a hard look, "this is a precautionary measure _only_."

He didn't want her worrying any more than she already was. God knows he could worry enough for the both of them.

Emily snorted, "precautionary measure my ass. You're out of the house, _rumpled_, in your pajamas. If that's not a harbinger of bad tidings I don't know what is."

Hotch didn't answer right away. He just quirked his lip as he pulled her off the couch and guided her towards the door. Emily grabbed her bag on the way out.

When they were in the hall he turned to her, "as to my 'rumpled' appearance, you did call me after ten Prentiss. And I thought it best not to take the time to slip into my tux before I came over to check and make sure your brains hadn't liquefied and were leaking out your ears."

As he'd hoped, Emily smiled a little at the joke, but then she began nervously wringing her hands as they waited for the elevator. Trying to relieve her anxiety, Hotch reached over and took one, pulling her against his side as he rubbed her back with his other hand. Then he leaned down to kiss her temple as he whispered, "you'll be fine." She nodded and bit her lip. But she didn't say anything, and they made the descent to the lobby and back out to Hotch's jeep in complete silence.

When they got outside Emily saw that Hotch had left his jeep double-parked out front with the hazards going. And seeing those flashing lights made her feel both better and worse.

Better because it was obvious how much Hotch cared about her, and worse because it was obvious how worried he was about her. So she squeezed his hand as they separated to go to their doors.

Though she tried to stop herself, she couldn't stop fidgeting and tapping her foot all the way to the hospital. Halfway there Hotch reached over and took her hand.

It didn't stop the foot tapping . . . but it did make her feel a little better.

/*/*/*/*/*/*

Hotch looked around the packed GWU waiting room. Unfortunately Emily had spiked a nasty fever on a busy Thursday night. After she signed in they settled into a relatively quiet corner to wait.

As he assessed their surrounding company, Hotch berated himself for not taking his service pistol out of the safe as he ran out the door.

Then he blinked . . . wow. He looked over at Emily in surprise, he didn't go _anywhere_ without his gun. He must have been pretty distracted with her condition to not remember it.

Emily, oblivious to Hotch's internal revelation about his depth of feelings for her, was flipping through a dog eared copy of Cosmo. She tipped her head over to him.

"Would you like to know fifty ways to please your man in bed?"

Hotch turned to glare at her but then he stopped . . . she was pale and sweaty and looked absolutely miserable, so he decided to play along. He sighed as he leaned over her shoulder and began reading the list.

"Okay well number thirty two is completely unsanitary."

Emily wrinkled her nose, "I concur, and look at number forty six. You could break a hip." She continued, "I knew somebody who knew somebody who did number twenty two, but I heard she went insane." Hotch's lip twitched as she kept reading.

"Number eight is illegal."

Hotch added, "so is thirty five," then he pointed to number seventeen, "that might work, but you'd really need to have the proper footwear."

Emily nodded, "yeah, and where would you even get a pair of snowshoes this time of year?"

Hotch snorted as Emily gave him a little smile and threw the magazine back on the table. Then she sighed as she leaned back in the seat and rubbed her hands over her face.

Seeing her so stressed out, Hotch bit the inside of his cheek before he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. After he'd pulled her against his side, she placed her head on his chest.

His brow wrinkled . . . God, she was really hot, he could even feel it through his t-shirt. He tipped his head down to kiss her temple.

Though he knew that it was unlikely that it was anything serious, he was still really glad that she was getting checked out.

Feeling Hotch press his lips to her skin, Emily sighed and shifted slightly closer.

He was always comfortable to lean on, she just wasn't used to sitting in a plastic chair while she did it. But once she was settled in a better position, they stayed in that way, silently watching the room, for another twenty minutes. That's when the triage nurse came out and called her name.

"Here," Emily called out, grabbing Hotch's arm as she stood up. But the nurse took one look at him and shook her head.

"Family only."

Emily felt that was a stupid rule. What difference did it make to them whether or not they were related? It was her body, she was the one that was sick and this was the person that she wanted with her while she got examined. So she slipped her hand down and grabbed Hotch's fingers.

"He is family."

The nurse eyed him before she looked back at her.

"Your husband?"

They both nodded and the nurse tipped her head, "okay, he can come then."

As they started after the nurse, Emily sighed in relief. She did NOT want to spend the next ninety minutes getting poked, then abandoned, then poked again, before being abandoned again, all by herself.

She was way too agitated for that.

But also . . . she tightened her hold on Hotch's fingers . . . she didn't trust him not to get himself into trouble if she left him in the waiting room. She knew that the 'bangers in the corner had caught his attention. One of them clearly had a stab wound, a stab wound that most likely not been reported.

And she also knew that Hotch didn't have his gun on him. The badge only took you so far if you didn't have any hardware to back it up, and he wasn't exactly wearing his Special Agent in Charge uniform at the moment. If she left him out there agitated and alone God only knows what she'd come back out to find.

Most likely it would be something ugly.

As they followed the nurse into the little alcove, Hotch squeezed Emily fingers before he let go to step past her and lean against the wall. Then the nurse started in on the standard run down of questions.

This was not the first time that Hotch had sat in on an ER triage session with Emily, but the last one was a year ago in Milwaukee. And he was shocked at how far their relationship had progressed in that time. He knew the answers to all of the questions about her medical history.

And it wasn't that he remembered from before, he didn't. He just knew the information. He wasn't even sure if he could have answered that many correctly about Haley when the two of them were married.

He realized though, he and Emily had been talking a lot over the past few months. Probably as much personal information had been exchanged between them as had been discussed in the entire last year of his marriage. Which really said something, given he knew more about his fictional 'wife' than he had known about his real one at the end.

He even got the cycle question correct! But he decided it would probably be best if he didn't tell Emily that. Though in his defense, he was a profiler and given how often they partnered up now, he could easily spend nineteen, twenty hours a day with her on the road. And that was often half the month they were traveling. He would be a pretty pathetic behavioral analyst if he hadn't subliminally picked up on such basic information.

Still, he thought it best not to share. They were moving into a tricky couple days. Though she had never let it affect her mood or behavior at work, he now spent much more off duty time with her. And he had noticed occasionally she could get slightly irritable if he pushed the wrong button at the wrong time.

Not that he blamed her. He always thought they kind of got the raw end of the deal on the whole reproductive process. The men got all the fun stuff, which the women got too, but they also had to put up with all that other crap.

He'd be irritable too.

As the nurse put on the blood pressure cuff, Emily looked over at him with a nervous smile. His expression softened . . . poor thing.

He gave her a dimple as he mouthed the words.

'_It'll be okay.'_

Finally done with the basic exam, the nurse clipped a plastic bracelet to Emily and led them back to one of the curtained areas. Just before she left, she told them the doctor would be along "shortly." Hotch didn't really consider 'shortly' to be a quantifiable measure of time.

And as he looked down he saw a smear of blood on the floor, and then two uniforms hurried past them as screaming started to emanate from the other end of the hall. They both tensed up until they saw it was a family notification. Emily muttered drolly, "this is fun. It's like being at work but without the pesky paycheck."

Hotch's jaw quivered as he reminded her, "home stretch Prentiss."

Of course neither of them were that good at waiting when they were so close to the finish line. Hotch paced back and forth in their four foot cloth cell and Emily impatiently swung her dangling feet as she balanced tensely on the edge of the exam table.

At least another thirty minutes passed and then suddenly the curtain was yanked back and the doctor . . . a girl young enough to be Hotch's daughter . . . finally entered.

"Miss Prentiss?" She asked with a weary smile.

For Emily's amusement Hotch corrected her, "it's Mrs." And Emily's lip quirked up as she reached over to take his hand, "yes, Mrs."

"Sorry, Mrs," the doctor corrected. And then she started running through the data that had been compiled by the nurse and then asked Emily if she'd had any other symptoms.

Emily started to shake her head but Hotch interrupted.

"She's had a recurring cough this week."

Emily looked up at him quizzically, "I have?" Hotch nodded, "yeah," he turned back to the doctor, "it started Monday and we've had a virus going around our work, two agents have been hospitalized."

Emily looked up at him again, "they have?" Hotch nodded, "yeah," and he turned back to the doctor again, "those two things in conjunction with the high fever, I thought she should get checked."

The doctor was nodding as she made a note on Emily's chart. Then she checked her lungs and heart, finishing with a quick throat culture before she felt her glands. She was nodding as she looked back up at Hotch.

"That was good you brought her in Mr. Prentiss."

She filled out a script which she handed to Emily.

"You're lucky your husband is so observant ma'am, your throat doesn't look good and your glands are swollen. There's a rather virulent strain of strep going around right now, which is what this appears to be. But the fever spike is still in the early stage. Most people wait too long before they seek treatment thinking it will go down, but high fevers in adults can become dangerous if left untreated. And before you know it, you're flat on your back in the hospital dehydrated and on a fluid drip."

The doctor gave her a tired smile, "you'll be just fine though." She pointed to the slip she'd given Emily.

"Stop at the pharmacy and get this antibiotic and pick up some extra strength Tylenol. Take three tonight, with some crackers so you don't get sick, and then follow the recommended dosage until your fever breaks completely. Lots of fluids, even if you don't feel like it, you need to keep hydrated. The antibiotics will start working in about twenty four hours so you should be feeling noticeably better in that respect by this weekend. Given you also have the cough, it's quite possible the strep is just a precursor to another virus. So you may very well develop some cold or flu like symptoms as well, but that's normal. Check in with your primary for a follow-up next week. The results of the culture will be back by then and he or she will be able to tell if you if the antibiotics have cleared everything up or if there's something else amiss. And of course," she gave her a look, "if your symptoms get dramatically worse or you have any trouble breathing come back immediately."

Emily nodded and they both thanked the doctor as she left. And then Emily turned to Hotch biting her lip, "you noticed I had a cough and you didn't tell me about the two agents in the hospital because you didn't want me to worry."

Hotch nodded and she gave him a soft smile, "you're a really good fake husband."

He quirked his lip as he put his hand on her shoulder to guide her out, "that's good to know Prentiss because I think I kind of sucked as a real one. Maybe I can become some sort of rent-a-spouse for single women over the age of thirty."

Emily looked over at his thick black lashes and his high cheekbones.

Her eyes crinkled.

"You'd make a killing sir."

/*/*/*/*/*

They stopped at the twenty-four hour CVS in Georgetown, and while Emily got her prescription, Hotch filled a basket with a big bottle of Tylenol, a few cans of soup, she preferred Campbell's, not Progresso, a box of saltines, the soft tissues just in case, a bag of dove chocolate, and a bunch of Gatorade and bottled water. After he'd paid for everything, he met her down the back just as she was getting her little white bag.

As they were walking down the aisle she tried to pay him back for her supplies, but he just shook his head as he nudged her towards the door.

"I consider it an investment in one of my most prized commodities Agent Prentiss." He looked at her over the hood of the car, "I need you to get well before the value of the whole team starts to depreciate."

Emily smiled as she opened her door.

She'd figure out some way to thank him later.

/*/*/*/*/*

Even though it was after one, and Emily tried to get him to go right home, Hotch insisted on getting her settled in before he left. She was dragging, and her head was starting to feel a little stuffy, so she didn't put up too much of a fight as he stuck her on one of the stools. Then he started emptying out the bags, lining up the soup on the counter by the stove and putting the drinks in the refrigerator.

He left out one bottle each of Gatorade and water.

Hotch broke the seal on her Tylenol and shook out one of her antibiotics. He handed her four pills, two crackers and one bottle of water. She swallowed, chewed and swallowed again. After all of her pills were consumed, Hotch grabbed the Gatorade and the bag of chocolate, pulling her off the stool, and helping her up the stairs.

When they got to the landing she looked over at what he was carrying.

"Was the chocolate part of my recommended course of treatment?" She asked sleepily.

If so she was definitely going back to that doctor again.

Hotch shook his head as they walked side by side down the hall to her bedroom. He waited until they were actually inside to answer her.

"No, that's to soften the blow that you can't come to work tomorrow."

Emily was kicking off her sneakers as he spoke, but then she stopped as she looked up him, crestfallen.

"But . . ."

Knowing that she was tired, sick and likely to be cranky, Hotch cut her off in a tone that brokered for no arguments.

"No buts Prentiss," he said firmly, "you need to rest." He grabbed her other sneaker off her foot before pushing her back in bed, "if you don't get any sicker, and your fever breaks, then maybe," he gave her an evil eye as he pulled up the covers, "_maybe_ I'll let you come in on Saturday if you want to get some files. But otherwise, you're banned until I say you can come back."

Given that Emily was also a workaholic (though nowhere bad as he himself) Hotch knew that being barred from the office wasn't going to go over well with her. So he sat down next to her on the bed and broke open the bag of mini chocolate bars. He kept one for himself and handed one to her as a peace offering.

He raised his eyebrow, "okay?"

Emily pouted as she accepted her chocolate, "okay."

Of course she knew he had a valid point, clearly she was sick. But still, she didn't want to be stuck home by herself.

Seeing the expression on Emily's face, Hotch could feel his damn dimples try to make an appearance.

The Dejected Pout . . . though it appeared rarely . . . always amused him. Emily had three pouts: Dejected, Disappointed and Genuinely Unhappy.

After he made the list in his head, Hotch's brow furrowed.

Hmm. Was that odd that he could now categorize her facial expressions down to the exact mood that went with them? No . . . he shook his head slightly . . . no. He was a behavioralist, he could read strangers better than their own families could. So obviously he was going to have a major advantage reading his friends.

And besides . . . he looked back over to her taking a bite out of her chocolate . . . as long as he always knew which one meant genuinely unhappy that was all that mattered.

He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"I think you have everything you should need for tonight so I'm going to go. You call me right away if you have any problems." Seeing Emily give him a dispirited nod, Hotch headed to the door, then he turned back to give her a small smile, "feel better, I'll check in with you tomorrow."

Realizing then that he was actually leaving her alone, Emily's features softened.

"Thanks Hotch . . . for everything."

His eyes crinkled and he nodded before he stepped into the hall. When he got downstairs he checked the locks on her windows and turned off the lights. Once he was convinced everything was secure, he walked out the front door. He turned back to make sure the latch caught before he actually left. And as he walked down the hall to the elevator bank his eyes crinkled. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and hit last call received.

Emily looked over at her ringing cell . . . restricted call . . . huh.

"Prentiss."

"I forgot to say good night."

Emily smiled softly as she lay back down, "good night."

Hotch clicked off with a small smile, sliding his phone back into his pocket before stepping onto the elevator and heading home.

_

* * *

A/N 2: Clearly there is starting to be a slight 'shift' in level of attachment. It's a gradual turn though, so baby steps, we're still two months away from either of them realizing they're in love. _

_I wasn't sure about making Emily sick here, just because you know I do make her VERY sick at a later date. And I didn't want Hotch always being 'big strong man'. But, short of endangering her life on the job, this setup was necessary for him to start worrying about her. And therefore realizing he'd grown much more attached to her than he may have realized otherwise at this point. _

_And, I did make Hotch sick (normal sick, not deathly ill) at a much later date. Just to make them kinda even, at least in this part of their lives. I'm actually pretty careful about keeping them on an even keel in terms of things 'happening' to them, going all through the AU. Just because again, with Emily's cancer, I don't want their relationship to be lopsided with her always being in a 'weaker Hotch has to take care of her' role. Sometimes she has to take care of him :)_

_There is a follow-up to this one, picks up the next day, and it's already written so it's definitely going up. If my 'witty' muse comes back, then I'll type up the trivia night chapter to insert after that.' If not I'll just do it for September. _

_Next: __**"Good for the Soul"**_


	73. Good for the Soul

**Author's Note**: Girl returns! And this one is quite lengthy.

As I said on Horses, updates will be slowing considerably.

* * *

_Late August: Friday_

**Good for the Soul**

Hotch was in the middle of a meeting with Budget, when he got a text message from Emily.

_Feel really crappy. Just got up for water but going to try to lie down again. P.S. Hate daytime TV :(_

His lips pursed as he stared down at his phone. And then he remembered that the meeting that he was in, he was actually conducting. And not surprisingly, people noticed that he stopped talking mid-sentence.

Oops.

So he quickly cleared his throat, murmured an apology, and moved onto the next item on the agenda.

Ten minutes later . . . as he was listening to the accountant next to him continuing to drone on . . . his main thoughts really were focusing on writing back to Emily. But he was at least relieved to have had some update.

That morning, not wanting to wake her in case she was sleeping, he'd sent a text message asking how she was. It had taken over two hours later before the response came back. He furrowed his brow as he thought back on her phrasing.

_'Really crappy.'_

And he'd been hoping that with her medicine, and some rest, that she'd be feeling a little better today.

Apparently not.

His teeth sunk into his lip as he looked down at the agenda again . . . three items left. Okay, he'd write back as soon as they were finished.

But of course right after the meeting ended, he got pulled into an emergency phone consult with the L.A.P.D. Once he had determined that yes, they did have a new serial killer, and he was probably a long haul trucker working out of the Seattle area, he checked his calendar for the rest of the day.

Nothing.

For obvious reasons, most people didn't like to schedule meetings for Friday afternoons. Hotch was generally ambivalent about it himself . . . as long as he was done by six to pick up Jack, all was good . . . but today that practice worked out well for him.

Because for once . . . perhaps for the first time . . . he decided to take off early before the weekend.

He didn't want to play phone tag, or . . . he shook his head dismissively . . . 'text tag,' with Emily. It was just going to keep bothering him until he could see for himself how she was doing. And he was picking up Jack tonight, so this was really the only time that he had to go over to her place. He checked his watch . . . 2:34.

Late enough.

He started shutting down his computer and packing up his files. There was always going to be something else to work on, he should just go now. That way there would be enough time to stop by for more than just a pop in, and he could still get Jack by 7:00.

After he flicked off his light, Hotch hurried over to Rossi's office and poked his head around the corner.

"Hey, I'm taking off."

Dave dropped his eyes to his watch before he looked back up at Hotch with a raised eyebrow, "now?"

Aaron Hotchner had never left early on a Friday. Ever. Not even when he was just an agent and not the chief.

Hotch sighed . . . yes, he did understand him leaving early was a notable occasion. So he might as well just tell Dave where he was going or he'd be poking around all next week trying to figure out where he'd gone. He took a step into his office.

"Yes, _now_," he said with a slight bit of irritation, "I'm going over to check on Emily. I can't go after work because I have Jack tonight and I just want to make sure she doesn't need to go back to the hospital."

Now FULLY alarmed, Dave dropped his feet off his desk as he bolted upright.

"What do you mean _back_ to the hospital?" He asked worriedly.

Hotch had mentioned at the morning briefing that Emily was out sick and not to call her, but that was it. Nothing about any hospital!

With a slight cringe, Hotch rubbed his hand across his mouth . . . oops. Then his eyes crinkled as he realized that was an Emily expression. But he sobered quickly as he took another step into Dave's office.

"I brought her to the emergency room last night," he explained, "her fever spiked to almost 104."

"Jesus Hotch!" Dave burst out, "what did the doctor say?"

Hotch tipped his head.

"The doc said that it was good we came in, but it wasn't too serious. It appears to just be a bad strain of strep that's going around. She's on antibiotics now, but the only message I had from her today was that she was feeling 'really crappy' and I don't know what that means exactly. But the doctor had indicated the antibiotics should be kicking in pretty fast," he sighed, "I just want to make sure that she doesn't need to get checked again."

What it really came down to was that he just didn't like the fact that she was by herself. If she hadn't called him last night, God only knows what could have happened. She might have been sick enough by today to actually require admittance to the hospital. He checked his watch again.

And he really wanted to get going.

Dave stared at Hotch for a second, he was now worried about Emily himself, but seeing how concerned Hotch was, Dave realized that he needed let him go before he burst a vessel. So he stood up and started ushering him towards the door.

"Okay, go, get out of here. I'll make sure the place doesn't burn down. Tell Em I hope she feels better."

Hotch flashed him a grateful look as he stepped back into the hall.

"Thanks Dave."

And then he spun around on his heel, hurrying down the stairs before anyone tried to stop him to read anything or to sign anything else.

Dave watched his friend go with some concern . . . he hoped Emily was okay. And then with a furrow of his brow, he turned back into his office and dropped down into his chair.

He brought her to the hospital.

Huh.

/*/*/*/*/*

Given that he'd gotten out fairly early, Hotch made a quick stop at the mom and pop deli to get a few things before he headed over to Emily's. He'd bought her canned soup last night, but homemade tasted better. And given his time constraints, Mrs. Greenbaum's soup was as close as he could get to homemade tonight. They also had a blue plate special today that he knew Emily liked so he got her one of those too. Shifting his food bags to one hand, he knocked on her door. There was silence and then a muffled, "just a minute."

Emily staggered off the couch, shuffling down the hall and checking the keyhole to see who it was. Her eyes crinkling, she pulled the door open.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

God, she was happy to see him! She'd been absolutely miserable being stuck in the house by herself. Not that she thought she was in any condition to go to work, but still. There was something about being all alone and sick that just made you feel like nobody cared. Not only did she feel awful, but she was lonely too.

Hotch winced in sympathy when he saw her standing there in her pajamas . . . she sounded terrible, and she looked exhausted.

Poor thing.

He gave her a little smile as he stepped inside.

"I wanted to check and see how you were doing. Hold on a sec and I'll go put these down."

He went down to the kitchen to put the bags on the counter. Then he went back around the corner to see her locking the door. Just as he was about to ask her how she was feeling, she turned to him, their eyes locked . . . and she burst into tears.

"I don't feel good!" It came out as a squeak.

Hotch rushed over and pulled her into a hug.

"Oh Emily!" He murmured as he kissed the top of her head, "it's okay. Now come on," he started guiding her down the hall as he said soothingly, "let's go sit down on the couch."

With an arm around Emily's shoulders, Hotch walked her to the living room as the tears continued to spill over. After he pushed her blanket aside, he sat down on the couch and pulled her against his side. Then he brushed back her bangs so he could feel her forehead.

Still too warm.

But . . . he rested his cheek on her head . . . not nearly as bad as last night. Probably just a cold, and the doctor had said that was possible.

And right now he figured that she must have just taken a shower.

Her hair was a little damp and she smelled like berries.

Emily sniffled pathetically against Hotch's suit jacket.

"I'm sorry for crying, but my throat's killing me and I'm _so_ tired. I haven't been able to sleep since like three o'clock this morning. I woke up because I couldn't breathe. And I keeping getting all stuffed up when I lay down so I have to sit up," her raspy voice cracked, "and I don't want to sit up! All I want to do is go to sleep."

God did she hate that she was whining! But she didn't usually complain so she didn't think Hotch would hold it against her. But she just didn't know what to do with herself.

Her throat was swollen, her eyes were gritty, and her head was killing her. And if she didn't get some sleep soon she was going to curl up into a ball in the corner and start sobbing uncontrollably.

Hotch felt so badly for her . . . he hated to see her unhappy or in pain, and right now they were 0 for 2.

He murmured against her hair, "I'm sorry. I wish I could do something to make you feel better."

They were quiet as he held her for another minute, and then he rubbed her arm, "I brought you some chicken soup from the deli," he said softly, "you know the broth is supposed to be good for you. Do you want to try it?"

Emily pushed herself back slightly and wiped her eyes. "Okay, I guess so. I tried to eat earlier but I just didn't have any appetite."

Hotch's eyebrow rose up as he looked down at her in concern.

"So you haven't eaten _anything_ today?"

And she wrinkled her brow and sniffled again, "well, I had a couple crackers with my pills, and one of my chocolate bars but that's it."

With a shake of his head, Hotch gently scolded, "Emily you have to eat. It's the only way you'll get better."

Wincing slightly she looked up at him, "I know, I just wasn't hungry before. But I was going to make some soup for dinner." He patted her arm, "okay, well you sit and I'll go get you something to eat."

As he stood up she gave him a little smile, "thanks." His eyes crinkled as he reached down to touch her cheek, "you're welcome."

Emily pulled her knee up and watched Hotch from the living room as he went into the kitchen. He dropped his jacket on one of the chairs and rolled up his sleeves before he started taking containers out of the bags. She cleared her throat.

"Why aren't you working?"

He looked at her over his shoulder, "I hadn't talked to you all day," he turned back to open the soup container, "and I was getting worried so I wanted to come make sure you were all right."

Emily smiled as she pulled her blanket around her shoulders again . . . he was such a sweetie. And she couldn't remember him ever leaving work before. Well, for anything not work related. Then she turned back to see the other containers in front of him.

"What did you bring besides soup?"

"Well," Hotch answered as he pulled open one of the drawers to get out the silverware, "the deli had a special today that I thought you'd like," he flashed a dimple over his shoulder, "chicken pot pie and mashed potatoes."

Emily grinned. "That's my favorite meal from there."

Hotch nodded as he scooped a small serving into one of the two bowls he'd taken down from the cabinet.

"I know, and I figured that you should eat something more substantive than just broth anyway."

He grabbed a fork and a spoon, picked up the two cereal bowls and brought everything back to the living room. He placed them down on the table. Then he gave her an imploring look, "I only gave you a little bit of each, so please, eat as much as you can, okay?"

After she'd accepted the spoon from Hotch's outstretched hand, Emily gave him a soft smile, "okay." Then she looked down at the two bowls of food in front of her.

Probably a half a cup of pot pie and a cup of soup. She couldn't really smell anything, but it looked good. And this was her favorite so she knew that it tasted good.

Though . . . she huffed to herself as she took a bite of mashed potatoes . . . she wasn't sure how good her taste buds were today.

Hotch went back to the kitchen to get her pills and two glasses of water. Then he grabbed another fork, his own takeout container, and balancing everything carefully, went back to the living room. He put the water and pills on the table and settled into the chair with his dinner.

Or more specifically, really late lunch.

Without Emily there to make him take a break, he'd ended up working straight through. He'd had a granola bar with his morning coffee and then another one with his afternoon coffee.

That was it.

And since Emily now had him in the habit of taking regular meals breaks, he was starving.

Emily looked over as Hotch took the cover off his food. After she swallowed her chicken, she gestured to his meal with her fork, "what did you get?" Hotch leaned over to put the lid on the table, "meatloaf, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables," he looked up, "do you want some?"

He knew she liked the meatloaf too. But the pot pie was her favorite, and he figured it'd be more appealing given that she didn't feel well.

Shaking her head she took another bite of the pie, "that's okay, thanks. This is really good. Thanks for bringing me dinner." She gave him a little smile, "and thanks for coming to visit me."

Hotch's eyes crinkled, "no thanks necessary. I told you last night, you're my most valuable commodity and you need to get better." She smiled at his thoughtfulness, but what he said, 'get better,' also reminded her, it was pill time. Once she took those, she reached down to get her bowl of soup. She'd just realized she should probably eat it before it got cold.

As they continued with their dinner Emily tried to ask Hotch about work, but he said she was still sick, and therefore still banned, so work conversation was off limits. She frowned at him but that quickly changed to a smile as he asked her what was on daytime television. He said he had no idea because he'd never actually been home during the day. She swallowed the last of her broth and put the bowl down on the table before she sat back on the couch.

"Well, this morning I could only find talk shows," she rolled her eyes, "and I hate talk shows. But then I found some reruns of," she paused briefly, "well, I found some reruns, and I've been watching those ever since."

Hotch's fork paused halfway to his mouth . . . he'd picked up on the hesitation.

She didn't want him to know what she'd been watching.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he looked back over at her in amusement, "reruns of what?"

Gah! She should have known he'd notice the stammer. Pulling her blanket up around her again Emily gave him a sheepish smile, "Little House on the Prairie."

Hotch's lips twitched as he swallowed his last bite. Then he put his fork and container down on the table and looked back over at her with amusement, "you've been watching reruns of Little House on the Prairie all day?"

She saw the look on his face and giggled, "yeah, I really have. It's a marathon, and I haven't seen it since I was a kid. I forgot how much I used to like it," she turned slightly pink, "I cried like three times, but I'm chalking that up to the lack of sleep," she tipped her head slightly, "though, it was really sad when Mary's baby died so I'm not sure I can blame that one on sleep deprivation."

Hotch huffed and then stared at her for a second before getting up to clear the remnants of their dinner off the table. After he tidied up the kitchen, he came back into the living room, and with a sigh, dropped down next to her on the couch. They looked at each other for a minute before he picked up her pillow and placed it in his lap.

His eyes crinkled as he patted it, "come on and lay down. I don't have to get Jack until seven," he quirked his lip up, "let's watch some Little House."

She felt her eyes begin to sting again. She couldn't believe he was going to sit and watch Little House on the Prairie with her because she was sick. As she patted his cheek she gave him a watery smile before she shifted herself around so she could put her head down on the pillow.

Hotch grabbed the remote off the end table, and sure enough, as soon as he turned it on, there was Michael Landon. She must have just clicked it off when she heard the door, probably embarrassed about anyone seeing her watching it.

But hell . . . he scowled . . . Little House was a good show! He remembered watching it when he was a kid too. Of course he hid that fact from everyone, but he was a guy. And it was _not_ cool to watch Little House on the Prairie if you were a teenage boy. But still, he'd always liked it. He stroked his fingers through her hair . . . and she was right, his brow wrinkled, that was really sad when Mary's baby died.

They watched TV for a couple minutes in silence, but then she shifted and he reached down to pull the blanket up over her shoulders, "you comfortable?"

She nodded, "yeah, actually I feel okay. I mean, breathing wise, I don't feel like I'm suffocating."

Having the pillow in his lap meant she wasn't actually lying flat so she wasn't getting so stuffed up. She knew she had some decongestant somewhere but she couldn't remember where.

Eh, maybe Hotch could find it after . . . she sighed . . . but right now she didn't want him to get up. Because him running his fingers through her hair was making her sleepy. She started to blink, she'd been trying to get to sleep all day, and apparently all she needed was proper knee high elevation . . . and of course Hotch running his fingers through her hair.

Huffing slightly she closed her eyes.

Hotch knew when Emily finally drifted off, the tension left her body and her head fell back against his stomach. He moved his hand over to feel her forehead again.

A little cooler.

That was probably the Tylenol. Though . . . he checked his watch . . . she was eighteen hours into her antibiotics so her fever should hopefully start breaking soon. He winced slightly as he listened to her wheeze . . . but her breathing sounded terrible. He hated to leave her all alone like this, but he had Jack tonight.

Although . . . he pursed his lips as he thought over his last conversation with Haley. It was almost . . . friendly. Maybe she'd let him switch his days. Take Jack tomorrow morning and keep him through Monday morning.

Actually . . . he started getting a little excited . . . he'd get more time with him that way.

As it was now he had him Friday night to Sunday afternoon. This way he'd get a full Sunday, plus breakfast on Monday. He missed having breakfast with his son. That was the one thing that had always put him in a good mood before he left the house. And Jack, unfortunately, was used to his somewhat erratic schedule so he wouldn't think anything of a slight change in the weekend routine.

Looking down he made sure Emily was still asleep . . . his eyes crinkled . . . conked out. Then he reached around her to get his phone out of his pocket. After he put the television on mute he hit Haley's number.

Haley looked down at the caller ID before she picked up the phone.

"Hey, are you running late?"

Hotch moved his hand down to cover Emily's ear before he whispered into the phone, "no, actually I already left the office. I'm calling to ask you for a favor."

His eyes drifted back down to the woman in his lap . . . this was just going to come out sounding strange no matter how he phrased it.

"Um," he started awkwardly, "Prentiss is sick. I had to bring her to the hospital last night and I'm at her place now and she's just . . . really, not well. And if possible, I'd rather not leave her alone until she's doing a little better," he paused, "I don't know if you already have plans for tonight, but if not, I was wondering if you'd mind if maybe I got Jack in the morning instead of tonight, and then kept him until Monday?"

At that point he chose to shut his mouth and let her think for a minute. He knew that was a lot of information for her to absorb.

Haley wrinkled her brow in confusion.

She wasn't sure which part of what Aaron had just said surprised her more. That he had already left the office . . . she checked the time . . . it was only four, that he _personally_ had brought Emily Prentiss to the hospital, or that he was calling apparently from her home, to say that he wanted to reschedule his time with his son because she was sick. That was all just . . . odd.

Were the two of them involved now?

She shook her head slightly . . . not necessarily. If she'd needed to go the hospital, then she had to be pretty sick. And he was always protective of his team.

Haley's eyes dropped to the tile floor for a moment as she started thinking.

Short of actually leaving town, Aaron hadn't missed any of his visitation time with Jack. Her ex-husband had his faults, but being a bad father certainly wasn't one of them. Haley pursed her lips . . . and Emily really must be quite ill if he doesn't want to leave her alone.

And . . . she bobbed her head slightly . . . she liked Emily. She thought they might have been friends under other circumstances. Her eyes dropped to the tile floor . . . and even if she wasn't personally fond of Emily, she and Aaron had been making an effort to take the frost off of their relationship.

They both knew that was what was best for Jack.

So she _also_ knew that given how many months of strife they'd gone through just to get to this point, that it was a big deal for him to call and ask for a favor now. He wouldn't have done it unless he felt strongly about this. She sighed . . . and if she gave him crap about it then it would really be for no other reason than simple pettiness. She frowned . . . and she didn't want to be petty.

They should be moving past that.

So she cleared her throat.

"Uh . . . sure, that's fine. What time will you be coming over tomorrow?"

Hotch blinked . . . he wasn't expecting her to be _quite_ that accommodating. He thought there would be at least a little push back. But not wanting to lose the moment, he quickly recovered from his surprise, "probably around ten. Is that okay?"

She nodded, "that's fine."

And then she was silent for a moment. Basic courtesy felt like she should ask about Emily but, that seemed a little too solicitous. She may have known the woman for two years now but technically, they'd only spoken a couple times.

They were virtual strangers.

So instead of asking how she was, she cleared her throat again and asked a rhetorical question, "would you like to speak to Jack?"

Hotch smiled, "yes please," he paused, "and Haley thank you, really."

She took a breath, "well, I think we've done enough fighting Aaron. That is why we got divorced, so we'd stop fighting. Yet, we've continued to do so for months. And really," she sighed, "I don't see the point, and I'd like to set a different tone going forward." Hotch's face softened, "I'd like that too. I don't want to fight any more either Haley."

She nodded, "good, then we're agreed. We'll turn the page." That was easier than she thought it would be. She sighed, "hold on, I'll go get Jack."

As Haley put down the phone Hotch's eyes dropped to Emily. Who would have thought her getting sick would have been the thing that finally got his relationship with his ex-wife moving towards even ground? His eyes crinkled as he ran his thumb across her temple, she'll like that. He'll have to remember to tell her later.

He heard the phone being moved around and then Jack came on with the boisterous, "hi daddy!" that always lifted Hotch's spirits. He talked to Jack for a couple minutes. They discussed the pillow fort he'd made in the living room, the glass he broke in the kitchen, "but mommy wasn't madded because it was a accident," and then their plans for the weekend. Hotch suggested the zoo and the squeal of approval was loud enough that he snapped his eyes down as he saw Emily start to stir. He rubbed her back to get her settled again while he and Jack discussed the monkey house.

As the monkey conversation wound down he could tell Jack was starting to get restless. He was almost four so he could engage in an actual back and forth exchange. But his ability to concentrate for an extended period of time was still somewhat limited. And Hotch knew it was time to let him go. He told his son he loved him and he would see him in the morning, and then he sent him off to play. With a soft smile Hotch clicked the phone shut before looking back down at Emily. Still sleeping. That's good. Hopefully she'll stay out for another couple hours.

Reaching over to the coffee table, he picked up the remote and turned the volume back up slightly. He shook his head in disgust . . . damn Nellie Olsen.

/

Feeling Emily begin to move around, Hotch looked down at her. Then he checked the clock . . . she'd been sleeping for almost three hours.

That wasn't too bad given that was the most sleep she'd had all day.

Emily's lashes fluttered against her cheek and then her eyes popped open. It took her a second to realize the pillow behind her was Hotch.

She put her hand up to her mouth as she yawned, and then asked sleepily, "how long was I out?" He muted the television, "few hours. How are you feeling?"

Using his knee for leverage, Emily pushed herself up and shivered, "cold, that's why I woke up."

At that pronouncement Hotch frowned as he reached over to feel her forehead again, then he bit his lip.

"Hmm, you feel hot again, must be chills." At her look of concern he gave her a sympathetic smile, "but the doc said it should break in about twenty four hours so hopefully it'll start dropping soon." After he put her pillow on the cushion, he pushed himself up off the couch, "but in the meantime . . ."

He crossed the living room to go over and grab another blanket out of her basket, then he went back and wrapped it around her. She gave him a little smile of thanks and his eyes crinkled before he sat back down. Emily scooted over and he lifted up his arm, pulling her against his side.

A few minutes later he looked down at her . . . she was still shaking. He raised his eyebrow, "any better?"

Tucking herself more tightly into his side, she nodded, "little bit." He started rubbing her arm, "well if you don't start warming up soon we'll try a shower."

With an amused snort Emily tipped her head back to look at him, "we? Are you gonna get in the shower with me?" He waggled his eyebrows, "hey, if I have to take one for the team."

Emily laughed and put her head back down.

They started watching TV again but then her eyes traveled down to the cable box and she realized how late it was. And she got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

He had to leave soon. He had Jack tonight.

Not that she was resentful of his time with his son, but . . . she felt her eyes sting again . . . she didn't want to be left all alone. She knew she was only getting emotional about it because she was overtired. But God, sometimes it seriously _sucked_ being single! Most of the time she was quite content with her independence but every once in a while, like now for instance, she'd realize it would be nice to have somebody else around to keep her company. She blinked the tears away . . . she should just be grateful Hotch was able to stay with her as long as he had been.

Not only did he come to visit . . . exposing himself to more of her germs . . . but he'd also brought her dinner and just sat with her while she rested. With a sigh she rubbed her cheek on his shirt . . . he really was a good friend.

Hotch heard Emily's little exhale and he glanced down . . . she looked sad. He furrowed his brow, "what's wrong?"

She shook her head, "nothing, I just realized you have to go soon."

_And I'm pathetic loser with nobody else in my life that will come sit with me while I'm sick._ She didn't say the second part, but, she was thinking it. No sooner did those words come to her when she felt Hotch rub his hand down her back.

"Actually, I don't have to leave. I called Haley while you were sleeping. I'm picking up Jack tomorrow morning so now I can stay as long as you need me."

Horrified, Emily pushed back to look up at him, "but Hotch! That's your time with you son! I can't take you away from that."

He was already shaking his head before she finished her last sentence, "actually this gives me more time with Jack. I'm keeping him until Monday. Ordinarily I'd have to bring him back Sunday afternoon and so now I'm getting another fifteen hours." His eyes crinkled as he patted her arm, "so you see, if you let me stay you're actually doing me a favor."

She looked up at him warily, "you promise I'm not screwing anything up for you?" He shook his head, "nope, I already talked to Jack, he told me about his pillow fort, we made plans to go to the monkey house and by now he's probably eating his Friday night mac and cheese." He looked down at her, "really Emily this actually is giving me more time with him. Usually it's so late when I get him home on Friday we only have time to eat and then he has to go to bed. So that's like two hours I get with him on Friday. And I see him so rarely, I'd almost rather push our visit off a day if that meant I'd get more time to play with him," he tipped his head, "of course ideally I'd like to get him every Friday night and always keep him through Monday morning. But," he shrugged, "that just isn't how visitation worked out."

When Jack got a little older he'd have it reopened. But for now, with Jack still being so little, and him traveling so much, he knew he really wasn't in a position to make a good argument.

Wrinkling her brow, she looked at him for a second, realized he was being sincere and smiled, "okay then." She patted his stomach, "thanks. It really sucked being home by myself all day." Then something else he said struck her and she looked back up at him curiously, "you know what? That's like the third time you've called me Emily since you got here. You never call me Emily, just Prentiss."

Twisting his jaw, he stared at the table for a moment. Then he shifted his eyes over to her, "and what do you think about that?"

He hadn't noticed he'd been calling her Emily today. It must be because he was worried about her. But of course he was aware that he ordinarily called her Prentiss. It was what he'd always called her prior to them becoming friends, so it was just habit now. But he hadn't actually given it any thought before as to whether that bothered her. It was kind of impersonal.

She tipped her head, "what? That you never call me by my first name?" Her eyes crinkled, "it amuses me." Then she gave him a soft smile, "though I'm fine with you calling me Emily too."

He looked at her for a second before he nodded, "okay, I'll work on it." Then he gave her a slightly worried look, "you know it's just habit, it's not personal."

She patted his stomach again, "I know. It only bothered me like my first three months on the job when I thought it meant you just didn't want me around." Her eyes crinkled, "but once I figured out that _wasn't _the case, I was fine with it."

As he stared at her Hotch's lips began to twitch, "yeah, I suppose I kind of like having you around."

In response Emily's lip quirked up and she turned back to the TV. A minute later she looked up as Hotch cleared his throat, "uh, you can call me Aaron sometimes, you know, if you want." He tipped his head, "I mean I'm ingrained to respond to Hotch but I still think of myself as Aaron . . .," he trailed off, "though sometimes I wonder if anyone else does."

She frowned as she saw the sadness flicker across his face. Reaching over she squeezed his hand, "I like your name, I'm just not used to calling you that." She nodded firmly, "but I'll work on it for occasional off duty use." His lips twitched, "ditto for Emily." She smiled before settling back into his side to watch the adventures of the citizens of Walnut Grove.

Twenty minutes later she sneezed. Just once. Hotch blessed her, and then she did it three more times in rapid succession.

She sounded like a machine gun.

Holding her hand up to her face she snapped her eyes over to Hotch.

"Crap."

Well so much for needing the decongestant. Her nose was running quite freely now.

His eyes crinkled, "I had anticipated this development and I bought you the soft tissues last night," he slipped his arm off of her as he stood up, "I left them on the counter." He went over and grabbed the box, pulling the cardboard off as he came back to the couch. After handing her a tissue he dropped the box on the table and turned to find the trash can.

Emily silently cursed as she blew her nose.

_Great, now my nose is going to swell up like a balloon and my face is going to get all chafed. Then I'll have to smear Vaseline all over it. Grrr. Why couldn't you ever be sick and still retain your dignity?_ She rolled her eyes . . . and some semblance of reasonable attractiveness would be nice too.

Hotch put the little wastebasket down in front of her and she looked up at him with a small smile, "thanks." Then she laughed a little awkwardly, "I know I'm kind of ugly right now but if I'm going to be blowing my nose every five minutes I can pretty much guarantee I'm about to get way more unattractive. You might want to leave before I turn into elephant woman."

He rolled his eyes, "yes, well, as _hideous_ as you are at the moment, I think I can tough it out."

Women were so ridiculous sometimes . . . he shook his head as he looked down at her . . . Haley used to say that she was ugly when she was sick too. He didn't understand it.

They were sick.

Though . . . he looked at Emily blowing her nose into her second Kleenex . . . the entire world tells women their sense of self worth is wrapped up in their appearance. And even if they're of stronger character than that, they aren't immune to the message. So . . . he wrinkled his brow as he tried to see it as they would. If they already didn't feel well, and if they then think that they look bad, well, then they're going to feel worse.

For a moment he was very proud of himself for figuring out one of the mysteries of the female mind. But then looked down at her again and shook his head. A beautiful woman thinking she's ugly because she has a cold. Absolutely ridiculous.

He scrunched his brow . . . but apparently not to her.

Reaching down he gently grasped her chin, turning it so she was facing him, then he looked at her seriously, "I don't know if I ever told you before, but I have a bozo the clown fetish."

Emily had no idea where he was going with this but her lips began to twitch, "is that right?"

Nodding he stepped back and looked her over appraisingly, "oh yeah, so I have to tell you, girls with red noses are really hot. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep my hands off you. I'm thinking I might have to go out and get you an orange wig just to complete the look."

With her mouth quivering Emily stared at him for a moment, and then she burst out laughing. If only the rest of the team could hear the things that came out of his mouth. She stood up and wrapped her arms around his torso as she put her head on his chest and mumbled against his shirt.

"So I guess you're trying to tell me I'm being ridiculous worrying about my elephant woman nose?"

Squeezing her back, he sighed, "yes, you are being ridiculous. You have a cold, it doesn't mean you aren't still beautiful."

He froze for a second as he realized what he'd said. Out loud. But he covered by hugging her for a moment longer, hoping she hadn't noticed. Then pulled back to look down at her, "you want me to make you some tea?" Her eyes crinkled, "yes please."

Emily smiled as she watched him go into the kitchen . . . he said she was beautiful. She was in her flannel pajamas, no makeup, raccoon circles under her eyes and her nose was now running like a faucet. And he said she was beautiful. Whether or not he'd meant it she didn't know. But that didn't matter. The point was he said it to make her feel better. He'd taken off work early, brought her dinner, and rescheduled time with his son.

All for her.

Lately she'd started to wonder what she would do without him. And what was odd was, he'd been in her life for years. Just not like this. She watched him puttering around in her kitchen like he lived there, and then he turned, saw her staring at him, and flashed a dimple. Her eyes crinkled.

She liked it much better like this.

/

Emily awoke the next morning to find a note on her pillow.

_Good morning,_

_Left to get Jack. There's French toast in the oven and I bought you some cold medicine. It's on the counter._

_Call me when you get up. I want to make sure your fever didn't come back. _

_- H_

_P.S. I slept on it and decided you're definitely crazy. Nellie Olsen was a narcissist with borderline personality disorder. I'm surprised she didn't take out the whole town. So clearly she was WAY worse than Nancy, who was just a straight narcissist and all around spoiled brat. So you __still__ owe me coffee next week!_

Chuckling softly, she slowly put the note down on her nightstand. She stared at it for a moment, then she pushed her blankets back, grabbed her box of tissues, and went off to find her breakfast, take her temperature and make a phone call.

* * *

_A/N 2: This one just kept getting longer and longer. I was going to cut it but then decided it was better all together._

_Finally addressed the "Emily/Aaron" issue. It'll be a slow rollover to regular off duty use of first names. Essentially, that transition will echo their deepening feelings for one another. So basically the more you notice them using them, the further they're falling._

_The last chapter was about Hotch somewhat subliminally picking up on a shift in his feelings towards her, this one was about Emily starting to do the same towards him. If you're wondering why Hotch wasn't worried about getting sick, remember he'd already been exposed to her in close quarters all week. And I'd tend to think, given what they do for a living, a runny nose isn't really all that off putting. Plus, I've noticed men in their prime don't seem to get sick as often as women in their prime. Of course not that I wish men ill health in general, but, it is somewhat annoying. Though, their hair falls out and/or starts sprouting from their ears, so perhaps that's the tradeoff. Because personally I'd prefer to have the colds._

_I sorta wish I could give Hotch regular Friday night to Monday morning custody, BUT, The Hours already established Friday to Sunday, and again, that's Girl canon. Plus, that at least this way gives H/P Sunday night to hang out. _

_Also, if you're reading Horses, you'll notice a bit of dichotomy with Hotch's relationship with Haley from this story to that one. But keep in mind, in this timeline it's almost three months later right now than it is in Horses. Their relationship has healed quite a bit at this point. And I did specifically let Haley's thoughts here about 'enough with the fighting,' echo the ones I gave to Hotch in Horses. If you notice some patterns in events or dialogue from one universe to the next, I'm not just being lazy :) I did it on purpose. As I've said, different events unfold in different ways in different timelines. But many of the events do still happen._

_One more chapter in August, then we're finally in September. The first chapter there will be the one where Emily meets Jack. It's written, but I think it's still missing something. I will send it to the great and wise Arcadya and see what she thinks. If it comes together then it'll go up early next week. As I've said, and for reasons I won't get into, updates will be slowing considerably. Most likely they'll be in little bursts. Same thing with review responses so, please don't take offense if I get back to you late._

_The next chapter on deck Kavi's been looking forward to since I told her about it. So hopefully she'll be pleased it's finally going up :) Hotch and Emily go shopping at IKEA!_

_And P.S. Little House was a great show! And I'm a fairly cynical, somewhat cold hearted urban girl. But nobody could milk the schmaltz like Michael Landon. And it was incredibly sad when Mary's baby died! _

_Next: "__**And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon**__"_


	74. And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon

**Author's Note**: Last chapter set in August.

*******************************************

_Late August: Thursday_

**And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon**

"You're getting those?"

Hotch looked down at the white plate in his hand. He wrinkled his brow and then looked back up at Emily with a quizzical expression.

"What's wrong with them?"

She sighed, "well, there's nothing _wrong_ with them, it's just," she wrinkled her nose distastefully, "they're kind of boring."

Rolling his eyes Hotch started counting out another half dozen plates from the stack, "please, it's a plate. You put food on it, you wash it, you put it away. It doesn't matter what it looks like." He tipped his head as he started putting together the cardboard carrying case.

"Well, it matters if it looks _dirty_. But otherwise who cares?"

He glanced over to see Emily frowning at the stack of plates he'd just pulled from the housewares display in front of them. Sighing, he dropped his head to his chest.

Well, obviously _Emily_ cares.

They'd been in IKEA for over an hour already. He'd come up to get a couple new things for his apartment. He had so far picked up much more than he had planned because he foolishly asked Emily if she'd like to come along on his little shopping excursion.

She had squealed. Honest to God squealed, and then had clamped her hand over her mouth because they were in the middle of the cafeteria. They'd still gotten some funny looks.

But post squeal, he'd come to find out, IKEA is her favorite store. This was information that sadly had never been covered in the summer lightning rounds.

If only he'd known.

His pockets were now stuffed with little slips of paper, items of furniture she thought he should get. And he was lugging, not one, not two, but THREE yellow plastic bags on his shoulder!

Emily was carrying one. That was for her stuff. Though she seemed to be having much more fun spending his money than her own, because her bag was only half full.

He'd only come up to get a dresser for Jack's room, an extra bookcase for the living room, a breakfast table, a few chairs, and some odds and ends for the kitchen. When he'd moved into the month to month rental last April, he'd never really bothered much with decorating or furniture. He knew the place was just temporary so the less he had to take down or move with later, the better. So he really only had the bare essentials. The first day there he'd gone to Target and picked up some Jack friendly plastic cups, bowls and plates, one mixed pack of silverware and a couple pots and pans.

Even though he enjoyed cooking, he was hardly ever home for meals, so his need at the time for expansive kitchenware was minimal. So those items, plus the few mugs and beer glasses he'd taken from the old house, had been more than sufficient to get him through the spring and summer months.

But now he had just moved into the new place, and he figured he should once again start living like an adult person with a job. Plus, for the few meals he did eat at home, he kind of missed eating off of glass plates. And these plain, white, glass plates sitting in front of him would more than fulfill his desire for ceramic dishware. He looked back over to Emily, she wasn't saying anything, but, he knew she didn't approve.

His eyes went back to the plates again. He really didn't care what the hell they looked like, as long as they weren't plastic. He sighed dramatically as he rolled his eyes.

"FINE, you can pick out a different set." Her face lit up and he glared at her, "but nothing girly!"

She nodded seriously, "I know, nothing girly." Then she smirked as she turned again to look at the stacks of plates in front of them.

Nothing girly. That had been his mantra since they got there. Every time she picked something up that was too pastel, too flowery, too pretty, that was the first thing out of his mouth, "nothing girly." That had happened at least six times so she was starting to get a better handle on his taste. She was quite sure Haley had been responsible for all household purchases in the past. Because it was clear he didn't seem to know that there are other things to buy when decorating your home besides just a chair to sit on and a plate to eat off.

Like for instance, window dressing. His new apartment had blinds. They kept out the light and they kept strangers from looking in his windows. Therefore he didn't think he needed to buy curtains. Silly Hotch. She hadn't commented on his ridiculous logic when they were in the car, but as soon as they'd arrived at the store she'd immediately taken him to the fabric section. And after a few scowls she'd finally put her hand on the right set. The one where his eyes widened, he'd tipped his head to the side and said, "not bad."

All of that in man talk meant, "that's pretty."

They were pretty. Gold iridescent floor length drapes. So she grabbed two sets for the living room. Then of course he needed throw pillows to match. And he didn't have a rug for his entryway. He said he already had carpeting in the living room so why did he need another rug. She just rolled her eyes and picked up an oriental one in black and gold. It wasn't at all girly. And after staring at it for thirty seconds he'd nodded reluctantly, "fine."

That was pretty much how it had been all over the store. She wasn't trying to bully him into anything. It was his place, and she wasn't trying to decorate like it was her place. She just wanted him to have a nice apartment, not something cold and utilitarian. They had stressful jobs and she knew how much she appreciated coming back to a nice relaxing home at the end of the day. And for all his grumbling now, she knew he'd be happier later once it all came together. Which is why she just _really _didn't want him to buy the plain white dishes. They had a nice little color scheme working in every other room. And he'd already vetoed a tablecloth for the kitchen table, so there really wasn't much in the way of color in there. So the white plates with the white walls would just be cold and uninteresting. She wanted something warm and inviting.

Her eyes ran over the rainbow of colors in front of her . . . there had to be something here that he'd like. Her eyes stopped on one stack . . . oh! She picked up the first two plates in the stack and held them up for him.

"How about fiesta ware?"

Hotch wrinkled his brow at the yellow and red plates in her hands, "Emily, I live in Virginia. Not New Mexico. Why would I buy fiesta ware?"

Bobbing her head she looked between him and the plates, "well, they're fun, and the colors match everything, and," she quirked her lip up, "your birthday is on Cinco de Mayo."

His lips twitched, "so by that logic if I was born on Easter I should get purple and yellow ones?" Emily eyes dropped down to the dishes again.

"Oh yeah, we could get purple!" She pointed excitedly, "and there's a purple one with pretty flowers!"

"PRENTISS!"

Grinning she turned back to him, "kidding." She put the red and yellow plates back down, "so that's a no on the fiesta ware." She thought back to their summer conversations, his favorite color . . . blue. She quickly ran through shades of blue in her head and realized in his mind blue meant "navy." Walking over to the next table she picked up a navy blue plate with a slight ripple pattern running around the edge. She held it up for him.

"This okay?"

His eyes crinkled, "yeah I like that one."

It hadn't occurred to him to get blue ones. But she remembered that he liked blue. He thought over all the stuff she'd picked out. She actually hadn't thrown anything into the bags that he didn't like. She was kind of driving him nuts thinking of new things he needed to buy. But, his face softened as he looked at her carefully wrapping up his plates, she was only trying to help him get settled. She was just being nice. He shifted the bags back on his shoulder.

"Hey, when we're done do you want to go to Hard Times and get a late dinner?" He quirked his lip up, "my treat."

They'd driven up to College Park straight from work so neither of them had eaten yet. And he knew she liked the Hard Times in Old Town.

Emily looked over and smiled, "yeah, I'd like that. I'm in the mood for Frito pie." She looked across the housewares section, "but first we need to pick up some matching bowls to go with your new plates." Eyes crinkling she turned back to him, "I know you said you have the plastic ones for Jack but you should have some nice ones too." She smiled softly at him, "you know, for when you have company."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he stared at her, and then he huffed, "okay." He put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her under his side.

"Let's go pick out some nice bowls to go with my new plates."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Hard Times Café is a chain of restaurants in the metro DC area. Really good variety of chili dishes. And comparatively inexpensive food, especially for the area. If you ever go to Washington you may want to check it out. Though there aren't any actually in the District, you have to go to Maryland or Virginia. Still though, good stuff. Definitely try the frito pie :)_

_Next up, finally Jack meets Emily. It might be up tomorrow, but definitely sometime this week. The next few after that are only half written though, so again, gappage. I had some early September holes. I needed more Jack chapters, and I wasn't in the mood to write lighter stuff. But I seem to be in proper Jack mode now (fingers crossed that lasts a few days at least) and I'm trying to at least get some rough drafts done that I can clean up later. Also, Emily does need a new car so they'll be going car shopping too. And I haven't forgotten about her public indecency story. I have heavier dramatic and action stuff coming up in late September so I'm trying to fill out the earlier part of the month with these 'slice o life' type chapters. _

_I know that this was a relatively short chapter but still, feedback is nice :) The muse is having some issues this week._

_Next: "__**Love at First Sight**__"_


	75. Love at First Sight

**Author's Note**: It got Arc's seal of approval so I guess it's ready to go up.

Jack meets Emily.

* * *

_Early September: Saturday_

**Love At First Sight**

"Daddy are we there yet?"

"One more minute buddy."

Hotch reached down to scoop Jack up and put him on his shoulders. He actually hadn't been complaining too much but Hotch figured at this point his legs were probably getting tired.

It was just this last week that Hotch had moved into his new apartment. It was coincidentally in the same part of Arlington as Emily's, and she had told him there was a park not too far from his house. So Hotch had googled it and it hadn't seemed like more than a ten or fifteen minute walk.

Probably closer to fifteen given that they'd be walking at a three year's old's pace.

But Hotch didn't know the neighborhood at all, so he _really_ should have sought it out on his own first before he walked Jack down. They'd definitely taken a couple wrong turns. But . . . oh . . . his eyebrow shot up . . . wait.

FINALLY!

The entrance.

And after another six paces to the cross walk, Hotch hurried across the main street and headed into the gated entrance of the small neighborhood park. He looked around . . . hmm . . . this was nice. It was clean, well maintained, and seemed safe. Though of course he knew Emily wouldn't have sent him down here if it wasn't safe. But he could see there was path lighting for after dark, and all the benches were sans graffiti. Lack of graffiti was always a good sign. And there were lots of families around too.

In fact . . . he wrinkled his brow . . . the place was pretty busy. And at this point they'd already been out walking for at least forty-five minutes so Hotch wanted to take a breather before he and Jack really started exploring.

As he slowly walked the main path he kept his eyes peeled for a place to sit down.

Jack was starting to get a little bored.

Hotch could tell this because his son kept tapping on his head. And he really wished that he had something to give him to play with, but rather than lugging a bunch of toys along with them, he'd only shoved a couple of matchbox cars into his pocket. And he really didn't want his son driving a miniature police car around on his head.

The last time Jack had done that the wheels had gotten caught in Hotch's hair and, well, needless to say, they weren't doing THAT again.

But . . . Hotch sighed . . . he should have thrown an army man in his pocket too. They were small, light, and most importantly, wouldn't lead to any clumps of missing hair. But he hadn't planned for needing any walking distractions. He'd just figured the cars would have been sufficient to keep Jack happy once they settled in one spot. His son was still of an age where simply spinning around in a circle for twenty minutes counted as a scintillating activity. And he enjoyed nothing more than doing that outside where he could then fall flat on his face giggling like a lunatic.

Hotch sometimes wondered if he was ever that young.

Refocusing on the problem at hand, Hotch realize that the one downside to a nice busy park on a Saturday afternoon, was that it was very difficult to find an empty bench. And he really hated to have to share with anyone that he thought was potentially going to try to talk to him. Though he knew that was a little anti-social, he didn't care.

He just did NOT like making idle chit chat with strangers.

But invariably people always tried to be nice and polite, and, well, it just really got on his nerves. So he walked off the main path to a smaller one that had more trees lining it. Maybe they'd have more luck over here. Hmm . . . still no completely empty benches.

Though . . . he squinted . . . that looks like somebody that he might know. And then realizing that it was _exactly_ who he thought it was, Hotch's lip quirked up. Then he patted Jack's leg.

"Hey Jack, we're going to go say hi to a friend of daddy's. You be a good boy, okay?"

"'kay Daddy."

Hotch yelled out to Emily

"Hey! You didn't tell me you actually hung around down here."

And she was wearing shorts and pigtails again. He was pretty sure that was his new favorite look.

At the sound of Hotch's voice, Emily looked up to see him . . . and a small boy who she knew from his many pictures was the famous Jack . . . walking up to her bench. A slow grin spread across her face.

"Hi! Yeah, I like to come here and read," she put her book down on the bench, "but I didn't know you were coming here today or I would have volunteered to show you around. Well," quirking her lip up she eyed Jack staring down at her, "if you wanted me too."

Hotch's eyes crinkled.

"We could have used an escort, we got lost," he lightly squeezed Jack's ankle, "and somebody got a little bit tired of walking." Emily gave Jack a sympathetic smile and he grinned . . . but then quickly ducked down to hide her from seeing it.

Her lips twitched . . . like father like son.

Hotch rubbed Jack's calf.

"Jack this is my friend Miss Emily. Can you say hi?"

Jack gave her a bashful smile as he started shimmying around on his father's shoulders.

"Hello Miss Emily."

Grinning in amusement at such a formal greeting from such a little person, Emily responded in kind.

"Hello there Mr. Jack."

At her equally formal response, Jack began to giggle, flashing two dimples at her. That made Emily squeal in delight.

"Oh my God Hotch! He has your DIMPLES! That's so adorable!"

Feeling his face begin to get warm, Hotch crouched down to take the squirming Jack off his shoulders. It was a good diversion. But it was also clear that he wanted to get down anyway.

Emily watched Hotch place his son on the path next to him. And as Hotch grabbed his hand, they both looked back over at her with identical little smiles.

She wished she had a camera.

It wasn't as obvious from the photos she'd seen, but Jack really was the spitting image of Hotch. Well, if Hotch was three feet tall and had ears that stuck out a little bit. But he was just as cute as a button and Emily couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. Finally she just laughed out loud.

"I'm sorry Hotch, but you two are just so ADORABLE together!"

With a slow shake of his head, Hotch shot her a glare.

"Prentiss . . ."

He was hoping that he could cut her off before she said something that really embarrassed him.

Seeing that Hotch was going to retaliate soon if she didn't stop calling him "adorable," Emily tried to change the subject before she got herself into trouble. With her lips still twitching she turned and started digging into her bag.

"I have some C-O-C-O-A, if you guys are thirsty."

Hotch's mouth started to quiver at Emily innate understanding of the need to spell out treats during the discussion phase. Then his lip quirked up as he realized _what_ it was she'd just offered. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Why do you have _that_ with you now? It's like eighty degrees outside."

Emily's eyes crinkled as she pulled out her thermos.

"I know, but I was in the mood. And when we get this close to fall," she looked up and winked at him, "which you know is my favorite season, I get excited. So I like to pretend that it's colder than it is."

Hotch just shook his head at her. Only by Emily logic would it make sense to be drinking hot chocolate on what was technically still a summer day. But . . . his lip quirked up . . . what the hell. Jack liked chocolate.

He looked down to see that his son was still staring at Emily with rapt attention. Clearly he liked her. Well, what's not to like? She made him giggle thirty seconds after they walked up. He tugged on Jack's hand so he'd look up at him.

"Would you like a drink buddy? Miss Emily has some cocoa."

Jack turned back to Emily, nodding and grinning simultaneously, "yes please."

With a chuckle at his enthusiastic response, Emily started unscrewing the cap off her thermos. Then she poured out just a small amount into the steel cup.

Fortunately she'd been in the park for a couple hours so it had cooled down to just lukewarm temperature.

And after she'd placed the thermos on the ground, she leaned over to offer Jack the drink. Her expression softened when she saw him look up to his father for permission.

_Good boy._

Hotch gave Jack a little smile as he looked down at him.

"It's okay bud. Miss Emily is a good friend of daddy's."

For as long as Hotch could remember, they'd been teaching Jack not to take ANYTHING from strangers. And so Hotch was inordinately pleased to see for himself that the message had gotten through. Of course that was only one of a dozen 'stranger dangers' his little boy brain needed to remember.

But . . . Hotch nodded to himself . . . that was a big one.

And that was all Jack needed to hear. For the words had barely left Hotch's lips before his son broke free from his grasp and bounded forward towards Emily.

But then he stopped short . . . there was barely a foot separating the two of them.

Fascinated, Hotch watched as they just stared at one other . . . and then they simultaneously grinned. Hotch's eyes crinkled in response.

Perfect.

Jack closed the last step separating him Emily and reached out to accept the thermos cup as he'd been taught, with both hands. After he'd slurped a little bit, he pulled it back from his mouth and smacked his lips. And with his eyes now sparkling he looked over his shoulder at his father.

"It's good daddy! You should try some!"

Hotch huffed as Emily laughed outright. Then she dug into her bag and pulled out a napkin, and with her eyes still soft, leaned over to gently wipe the chocolate off Jack's chin. And as she did it, Hotch felt a little pang in his gut as he watched this woman who had recently become such an important part of his life, tenderly look after his son. Then she looked up and smiled at him.

"If you guys don't have any plans why don't you sit with me for a little bit."

This was an unexpected treat, first seeing Hotch on the weekend, but also the privilege of getting to meet his son. Emily loved little children anyway, but God . . . she bit her lip . . . Jack was just SO cute! And she wasn't sure when she'd get to see him again, so she definitely didn't want them slipping away.

Hotch really wanted to stay, but it was clear that Emily had been settled in for a quiet afternoon. And Jack, as well behaved as he usually was, definitely wasn't conducive to a 'quiet' anything. So he hedged a little.

"That's really nice of you Prentiss but," he tipped his head, "we don't want to impose."

Emily scowled at him.

"Don't be silly. How could you ever be an imposition?" She patted the bench next to her, "now come sit down and we can make fun of the speed walkers."

With a snort, Hotch stepped off the path and crossed over the two foot swath of grass that was set in front of the bench. Jack, once he had finished his little cup of cocoa, needed something else to do so Hotch dug out his matchbox cars. And as Hotch and Emily talked, Jack made "vroom, vroom" noises as he raced his cars around the bench. And to Emily's great amusement . . . up and down Hotch as well. Hotch didn't even break stride in his conversation, so it was clear to her this was not the first time he'd been used as part of the motor speedway.

After about a half hour of playing with his racecars Hotch could see Jack was starting to get a little bored so he began tickling him. As Jack started to shriek with laughter Emily began to crack up. Once it got to the point that Hotch was afraid that Jack, or possibly Emily, was going to have an accident, he patted his son on the bottom and sent him off to start spinning around in circles in the grass behind them.

As expected, Jack enjoyed this activity immensely. What was _not_ expected . . . was that after a few minutes of watching him spin around . . . Emily would go join him.

Hotch pulled his leg up on the seat so he could look back and see them twirling around and around in circles. They both kept giggling and falling down. Sometimes on top of each other.

And Hotch couldn't stop laughing.

He actually couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much that his stomach hurt and he had tears running down his face. He might have been a kid. After about twenty minutes though, he noticed that Emily was sprawled out on the ground . . . and she wasn't getting up.

She actually appeared to be a little green.

So Hotch tried to get his amusement under control as he got up and went over to sit down on the grass beside her.

Lips twitching in a barely contained smile, he raised an amused eyebrow.

"Have you had enough fun?"

"Bleh," Emily flopped her arm over and it landed on Hotch's thigh, "I think I'm gonna be sick. How does he keep _going_?"

Hotch shook his head affectionately as he turned to watch his son still spinning . . . he had a huge smile on his face.

"I have no idea. He makes me dizzy just looking at him." Then his lip quirked up when he shifted his attention back to Emily.

"I can't believe you did that."

Feeling the warm sun hit her face, Emily closed her eyes and smiled.

"I used to do it when I was little too. I just wanted to see if it was still fun."

"And was it?" Hotch asked with a soft smile as his fingers tangled with hers.

She nodded.

"Yeah, it was fun," then she chuckled and opened her eyes. "For a little while. Maybe it's because I'm so much higher off the ground now, but eventually I started getting queasy," she yawned, "and tired."

Hotch's expression softened as she started closing her eyes again. Watching her respirations begin to even out, he squeezed her hand and whispered.

"Thank you for playing with my son."

She squeezed back.

"It was my pleasure. He's really sweet Hotch." Then she gave him a sleepy smile, "I'm going to close my eyes for a minute, okay?" Hotch's eyes crinkled as he nodded, "okay." He watched as she fell asleep with a little smile on her face.

Jack continued to spin and run around while Emily dozed in the sun. And Hotch stood guard over them both.

As he looked back and forth between them, his eyes crinkled when he realized, this was the best day that he'd had in a long time. These were his two favorite people, and it was the first time that he'd spent a day with both of them together. And also . . . his features softened . . . they liked each other. Quite a bit. That was obvious.

So maybe they could do this again.

And seeing Emily begin to stir, he smiled as she opened her eyes and their gazes locked. He stared at her for a second before reaching over to squeeze her hand.

"Hey, I was just thinking. Do you want to maybe bump into us again sometime?"

Her features softened at the realization that Hotch was actually offering to share with her some of the precious little time he had with his son. It was an enormous honor. And she'd had a wonderful time playing with Jack. He was funny, and he was such a good little boy. He kept trying to help her up when she fell down. Of course he couldn't lift her, but, he kept trying. Her eyes crinkled.

"How about I bump into you next Saturday around noon?"

Leaning back on his hands, Hotch nodded, "sounds good. I'll bring sandwiches." Then he looked over at her as he quirked up his lip, "do you like peanut butter and jelly?"

Emily grinned.

"I _love_ peanut butter & jelly."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Emily winked at him and he flashed a dimple at her.

Lips twitching, Emily rolled over on her stomach to watch Jack chasing a butterfly. Her eyes crinkled.

This was a good day.

* * *

_A/N 2: I had put a vague description of their first meeting in the opening chapter of The Hours so I used that as a blueprint for this one. And the cocoa thing, that was in there so I had to use it here :) Keep in mind when I wrote that, I didn't know I'd be writing this and sort of figured a general reference to them meeting 'last fall' would imply it would have been cool enough for warm beverages. But I decided to pull Jack in earlier so Jack and Emily would have a full four months together pre-Hours. That way the strong attachment and love between them in The Hours would be more understandable. That said, Virginia in September is still __quite__ warm so the reasoning for the cocoa had to just be an Emily thing._

_And the title of this one, also from that paragraph. 'Jack was smitten from the beginning.' Obviously Emily was as well._

_Side note, I hadn't read that chapter since I wrote it six months ago. Ack! Some of it is just, not good. I've said before that was literally the first thing I've ever written, and that kinda shows. Oy. I mean, it didn't all suck, I'm not THAT hard on my own stuff. Most of it was okay, but, there were definitely a couple places that were 'awkward.' And I cringed. Once I'm done with Girl I am planning on going back and tweaking a couple things in there. So if you haven't read The Hours yet, please do me a favor, and yourself one, don't read it now. Not until I can fix it. It'll be better. And I'm also planning on adding a couple more things, fleshing it out a bit more to make it a logical bridge from this story to that one. It's hard writing stuff backwards! I don't recommend it. _

_And if you've never had a small child run a matchbox car through your hair, I don't recommend that either. Though twirling is fun :) _

_Okay, so I hope that held up to expectations. They were pretty high! Please let me know. And yes, we will be going along for PB&J next weekend but before that, Emily gets a new car._

_Next: "__**Car Wars**__"_


	76. Car Wars

_Early September: Tuesday_

**Car Wars**

Hotch stepped through the doors of the car dealership to hear Emily saying in her fake polite tone.

"No, really, thank you. But that's _not_ what I'm looking for."

Groaning, he slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket.

Damn it. This is why he was supposed to be here with her, so she _wouldn't _get harassed. But he got called into a meeting with Strauss just as they were leaving. He told Emily to go ahead and start looking around the lot, he'd be "ten minutes" behind her. More like _forty _minutes behind her! Freaking Strauss. It wasn't even anything important. His teeth were grinding as he listened to her go on about the changes in the statistical reporting schedule.

_Seriously_, changes in the statistical reporting schedule?! _ That _was why she pulled him into his office at six o'clock!? She would have kept going on about the all important new schedule but he finally told her he had to pick up his son and just walked out.

And that was a lie that he felt not an iota of guilt for telling. She'd held him up for no good reason. And as a result he ended up sending Emily off by herself to handle a task she'd been dreading. And that was _after_ he'd promised that he'd accompany her. He was so annoyed, and now he gets here to find the vultures were circling around her. He spotted her across the showroom looking very uncomfortable as a sleazy looking guy in a shiny suit tried get her to look at a car that Hotch could see from this distance was _at least_ fifteen grand out of her prize range. His jaw twitched as he headed over to them.

Jackass.

Emily was ready to snap.

If 'Doug' didn't get out of her face she was just about ready to haul off and punch him in his freakishly white teeth. Trying to get her to buy a forty thousand dollar car! She had told him, no more than twenty grand! And he still kept showing her luxury sedans. Now here he is pointing out _another_ one! Douche bag! She had no use for these cars and she'd already told him that THREE times! She groaned to herself, stupid Strauss taking Hotch away at the last minute. They weren't even trying to leave early. It was six! That horrible woman probably knew Emily needed him and this was part of her evil plan to continue wreaking havoc on her life.

She rolled her eyes . . . perhaps not. But still, Strauss SUCKED. And that was always a point worth repeating. And she _really_ wanted Hotch here with her. Two played better defense than one, and he was going to help her decide on the options. Plus . . . and this was really what was most important . . . Hotch's glare had superhuman abilities. Directed with the right ferocity, Doug could be incinerated on the spot. And though she was FAR from a helpless female, sadly, she possessed no such power. All she had in the arsenal was the polite, but firm, brush off, OR pounding his face into the dirt.

Sighing, she rubbed her hands down her face.

She really needed to work on her in between game. And she couldn't brush him off yet because she still needed somebody to actually SELL her a car!

She was just about to say screw it, and just go for face pounding, when a comforting smell hit her olfactory senses and she felt a familiar hand slip around her waist. Her eyes crinkled in relief.

Hotch.

He leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Sorry I'm late. How are things going?"

Seeing one of her hands curl into a fist, his lips twitched.

That well.

So he squeezed her side as he looked back up . . . with a hard glare . . . to the man in the shiny suit. This was the person who had been causing her grief.

Pleasantries were not on the agenda.

"We're going to need a couple minutes, so if you'll please excuse us." Then Hotch noticed his name tag and his eyes snapped back up as he sent him a frigid smile, "thanks Doug."

Doug's jaw opened and then audibly snapped shut.

"Uh, sure," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I'll be down back."

Emily snorted as Doug hightailed it across the gleaming white floors. Though he slipped on his loafers and almost fell on his ass, still he kept moving until he was at minimal safe distance from the terror was that was Hotch.

Once Dough had cleared the potted palms on the far end of the space, Emily dropped her head onto Hotch's shoulder.

"I wish _I_ could make people run away like that," she said with a pout.

Tightening his grasp on her waist, Hotch started leading her back outside.

"You can. I've seen you."

Really, she was quite impressive. He'd seen many men run away from her in fear. Derek and Spencer included. And once, Kevin had turned and smashed straight into a door when she threatened to shove his keyboard up his ass.

That was the last chain email he sent to her.

They headed through the sliding door as Emily shook her head.

"Nah, not like that. I have to pull my gun." She bobbed her head, "or you know, actually threaten to beat them senseless." She pursed her lips, "no, I want that _look_. The one people run from in terror."

Looking down at her Hotch said seriously, "well your birthday's coming, so I'll see what I can do."

Emily nodded firmly, "thanks. I'd appreciate that. So a new glare and a pony, write it down please."

He snorted and kissed the top of her head.

"Got it, glare and a pony. I guess I'll send back your unicorn." Emily shifted her eyes over to him, "well let's not be hasty," she raised her eyebrow, "what color unicorn?"

Seeing Hotch's lips begin to twitch, she grinned and slipped her arm around him.

"I'm really glad you could make it."

His eyes crinkled as she pressed herself into his side.

"Me too."

As they started walking through the lot Emily spotted the row of cars she'd been looking at before Doug kidnapped her. She pointed, "over there, the far row. I like the green one."

Lips twitching Hotch started walking them over to the back part of the lot, "the green one, huh? Any idea what kind it is?"

She shook her head, "nope. Don't know, don't care. It's in my price range, it has good gas mileage, low emissions, and," she smiled up at him, "it's pretty."

Hotch's eyes crinkled.

"Okay. Well, then let's find somebody else besides 'Doug' to help us." His eyes scanned the lot looking for somebody wearing a name tag that didn't set off any warning bells. He squinted and then pointed at a kid in the next row, "how about that guy?"

Scrunching her brow in concentration, Emily gave him the once over.

Hispanic, mid twenties. The guy in question saw Hotch pointing and started to walk closer. That's when she could see the wedding ring . . . and the off the rack . . . non-reflective suit. A suit . . . she observed on his approach . . . that had a slight stain on the shoulder.

New baby.

So new family, needs a commission but probably financially strapped enough himself to not be a sleazeball. She nodded.

"Yeah, I like him."

The kid stopped in front of them and smiled, "hi, I'm Mario can I help you folks find something today?"

Emily put her hand out.

"Yeah, hi, this car over here," she tipped her head, "what can you tell me about it?"

Hotch watched silently as the two of them discussed her choice. He was pleased with their pick of salesman. And once Emily had put her hand out and asserted control of the conversation, he'd directed all of his comments to her. And he wasn't being obnoxious with his push. After she had told him she was firm on her high number he'd let it go. Of course he had to run down all the options she really didn't need, but Hotch didn't blame him for that.

Though Hotch gave Emily an imperceptible head shake to almost all of them as Mario went through the list.

There were a couple nods, but the only time he felt strongly enough to open his mouth was for the remote keyless entry. He nodded.

"We want that one," then he looked down at her, "that way you don't have to fumble with your keys at night. It's safer."

Her eyes crinkled and she turned back to Mario.

"Okay, yeah, we want that one."

This is why she brought Hotch. She was so annoyed from her experience with Doug that she was ready to say no to everything. But he was right, that was safer. And it hadn't been an option on her last car so she hadn't given the idea of getting one any thought.

Mario nodded.

"Good choice. I got that for my wife too."

Hotch's lips twitched as he squeezed Emily's waist and she subtly elbowed him back. After that, Mario began to cover the final two items on his list.

Both received negatives from Hotch.

She didn't need the credit insurance and she didn't need the tint. It was illegal in most counties around here anyway so he didn't know why it was even an option.

Once they'd gone over all the particulars, Mario smiled, "you folks wait here and I'll go get the paperwork with the options we've discussed. Ordinarily we're supposed to take you in back to go over it now. But," he gave them a sympathetic smile, "I know this is a big decision so you can take it home, look it over. Just give me a call and we'll set up a time for you to come back. If you have any questions we can cover them then, and hopefully we can get you in your new car this week."

It was contrary to everything the older guys had tried to tell him, but Mario found the soft sell was more effective than the hard one.

As he walked away, Emily turned to Hotch with a grin.

"Wow, that didn't hurt at all!"

His mouth quivered.

"It's not supposed to hurt. They're not extracting a wisdom tooth. You saw something you liked and it was in your price range. You shouldn't have to look at anything else if you don't want to." He looked down at her quizzically, "have you always had a hard time getting a new car?"

He'd never had any problems himself. And though he couldn't _fix _an engine, he did know what was, and was not, necessary to make the car run. So he always knew exactly what he wanted when he arrived, and was in and out in an hour or so. He didn't like to browse, and he didn't enjoy shopping as a general rule. An item needs to be purchased, you go and purchase that item, and you leave.

Why keep looking once you find what you want?

Of course he had been reminded at IKEA that wasn't the way women thought. It had been a year and a half since he'd been shopping with a woman for _anything_ and he'd forgotten how much they liked to 'look' at stuff. Even stuff they weren't going to buy.

It was baffling.

He frowned as he thought about that . . . but that didn't seem to be true for cars. Well, at least not the women he'd known in his life. Which, he snorted to himself, were really just the two. Haley and Emily. They were night and day from one another in so many ways but Haley hadn't liked car shopping either. She'd always wrinkled her nose when it was time to get a new one. She told him what she needed it to do, the colors she DIDN'T want, and then sent him off on his own.

Telling him whatever else he wanted to get was fine with her.

Though he'd always brought her down to show her what he'd decided on before they bought it, she'd never had a problem with his choice. He'd never thought about it before, but Haley's aversion to car shopping was kind of odd. Just given that she basically picked out everything else they'd ever purchased as a couple.

Even the house he'd deferred to her wishes.

Knowing that she'd be spending a lot more time there than he would be, he wanted to make sure that she really liked it. _He_ certainly hadn't cared if they had both a den AND a living room. His gaze dropped down to see Emily scowl.

"Yeah, it's awful! The salespeople are so pushy. And they can just sense that I don't know what they're talking about so they keep saying it over and over trying to wear me down." She tipped her head, "actually the more they push a particular thing, the more likely I am to say no because I can see they're just trying to get more money." She sighed, "I keep meaning to research all this crap but," she wrinkled her nose, "I don't have any interest in cars. I mean, I can identify types of cars for APBs but beyond that, it's just an area that holds no appeal for me. All the rest of it is just . . . eh." She rolled her eyes, "and they know I'm completely ignorant so I usually end up going to three or four lots until I find the car I like and the salesperson that doesn't try to screw me. Even the women are awful." She tipped her head, "though maybe they think I deserve it for being ignorant on a topic that they themselves are educated about." She shrugged, "I guess I could kind of see that."

Women were harder on other women.

Hotch frowned at her.

"Emily, it's not OKAY to take advantage of someone because they're ignorant on a particular topic. You aren't _supposed_ to know everything about everything. Nobody is. That's why the salespeople are supposed to _help_ you make your decision, not bully you into buying things you don't need." He shrugged, "I know that car salesmen aren't the most scrupulous people on the planet, but really, I've never had any problems myself so I didn't understand it was _that_ bad."

She huffed.

"That's because you're YOU, and nobody screws with _you_ on anything." She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, "take a look around you."

Hotch looked around the lot at the expressions of annoyance, frustration, and general confusion on the other patrons faces. Men and women alike. And those were just the half dozen people that were close enough for him to see. His brow wrinkled.

Huh. Apparently car shopping was a pain in the ass for a lot of people. He looked down at her.

"I had no idea."

Eyes crinkling in amusement, Emily leaned up and kissed his cheek. Then she smiled as she wiped away the smudge of lipstick.

"Welcome to planet earth Superman."

* * *

_A/N 2: Hotch's arm around the waist here wasn't intended (as it was in the pool hall chapter) to give the wrong impression to 'doug' about their status. Hotch did that here because that's what he wanted to do it. And as a result Arc commented they were quite 'coupley' in this one. Yeah, they're moving towards that subconsciously, off duty only of course. And yes, I will be covering them back on duty soon enough. Well, they'll be traveling again very soon, but we won't see them 'in the field' until later in September. There are some actiony chapters. I actually have an idea for a work related chapter, __not__ an active case, that has to do with one of the prompts. It would be a more involved, serious chapter, possibly an arc, which I haven't actually fleshed out too much in my head. But I want to stick that somewhere in September so we'll see if I can get that done. AND, we'll be meeting Em's dad. Which is nice, because you know I just killed him over in another story so it's good I can resurrect him here. I feel less guilty._

_Tried to balance this chapter without moving into any clichéd sexism. But really, __most__ women are not that into cars. Not all women, but most women. Though I did make a point of saying Emily can identify them for work, but it's just not a topic that appeals to her. Personally I couldn't give a damn LESS about cars. I can retain license plates and colors, but models and features are a blur. It's a part of my brain that just shuts down. Kind of like when they show golf on television. And yes, I know TG, big golfer! But playing a game/sport yourself, is not the same thing as watching somebody else do it. _

_I have a busy few days ahead, possibly posting again on Thursday. I'll put a note on my profile page if that changes. The profile is obviously the only way I can communicate beyond postings so, if I'm falling off the grid for an extended period, I'll put a note._

_And next we'll be having some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches._

_Next: "__**Sunshine Days**__"_


	77. Sunshine Days

**Author's Note**: Obviously I have to address what happened so **SPOILERS here in the opening note**! Close your eyes and move down to the chapter title if you didn't see the finale and don't want to know.

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_Yes, I too wanted to throw up right after it ended. But, that feeling has passed. I've decided, Kavi and I actually discussed it, doesn't make sense to dump him. Bunch of reasons. So, unless we hear otherwise, I'm going with the presumption that was the typical season finale cliffhanger intended to draw people back next year. And if it wasn't, I promise to write a fix and then we just never ever have to watch the show again :) Just remember, the logical, easy fix for the scene is the UNSUB shoots him somewhere not lethal, he likes to torture his victims first, Hotch falls to the ground pulls his second weapon, blows the guy away. That's all they need to do. It's nothing. If it's genuinely bothering you, just remember, logically it doesn't make sense for them to cut him. He's the face of the show and TG has a HUGE fan base. They'd lose viewers, which means they'd lose the money._

_Keep telling yourself that, and then come here to live in the fantasy worlds we're creating online. And that's the reason I actually decided to post tonight. I wasn't going to but I thought people might need some fluffiness. I did :) Actually, as soon as I started reading some of my story, my brain stopped spazzing and I was able to think logically and let all the ugly panic go. All I had to do was read something 'nice' and the panic went away.  
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_And now we will speak of the ugliness no more. Nothing but fluff here.  
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_Early September: Saturday_

**Sunshine Days**

Emily waved and smiled as she saw Hotch and Jack coming down the path. This week when Hotch and Emily were discussing lunch in the park, they'd agreed to meet by the same bench they did last Saturday. Unfortunately it was occupied this time but that was okay, Emily shifted her bag back on her shoulder, she figured they could sit on the grass anyway.

As her lunch companions got closer Jack started to wave to her and yell out, "HI MISS EMILY!" She could see Hotch's eyes crinkled at his outburst and Emily herself was delighted as she waved back, "HI MR. JACK!"

He giggled.

She'd been excited about seeing Jack again but she wasn't sure if he would be as happy to see her. If he'd remember that they had fun playing together. Her eyes crinkled, apparently he did. And as soon as they were close enough Hotch let go of his hand so he could run ahead to her. Jack slammed into her knees at full force, and she started laughing. He looked up at her already chattering about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and twirling on the grass. Still laughing, she looked up at Hotch.

"I guess he remembered me!"

Hotch's lips twitched, "I told you he liked you. It's been nothing but 'Miss Emily' this and 'Miss Emily that' since he woke up and remembered we were going to meet you at the park." He leaned over Jack's head to whisper in her ear, "he wants you to spin around with him again but I said you might be too tired." Emily's eyes crinkled as she looked down at Jack. He was staring up at her with a big grin and she tousled his hair, "I think I'm up for a little bit of spinning," she looked back up at Hotch apologetically, "but fair warning I might need another nap."

Even with the full days she put in she didn't realize small children could be so exhausting! She loved playing with Jack last week but he was constantly 'doing' something. After the twirling they'd played tag, and then gone for a walk. And he kept trying to race ahead. Hotch had a firm grip on him but at one point Emily said she'd run with him and she'd taken his hand and they'd jogged, at Jack pace, down to the end of the path. Hotch just rolled his eyes and said if she tried to _actually_ do everything he did she was going to kill herself. He might have had a small point, she'd passed out on the couch at like nine o'clock. It was embarrassing.

Hotch slipped his arm around her waist and put his other hand on Jack's head as he started guiding them over to the grass.

"Trust me, he wears me out too so I completely understand if you'll need a nap before we're done with you. Just let me know if it gets to be a little too much. It's an adjustment to go from the adult world to the world of small children," he rubbed her back before she sat down, "the sensory overload can be a little overwhelming until you get used to it." Emily's eyes crinkled as she realized 'get used to it' meant that Hotch was open to her spending more time with Jack.

They settled in on the grass, far back from the couple on the bench, and Hotch started digging around in his bag, pulling out the sandwiches and napkins. Looking up, he smiled at her, "I didn't really know how much you'd like warm, squished peanut butter and jelly. It's kind of an acquired taste, so I brought you a turkey sandwich."

Lips twitching Emily started pulling things out of her own bag, "because warm, squished _turkey_ sandwiches are so much more appetizing," she smiled back at him, "I'll eat the peanut butter, you can eat the turkey. I know the peanut butter makes you thirsty."

Hotch huffed, she was right, it did make him thirsty. He started looking over the things she was laying out on the ground. A small tablecloth to put the food on, that's a girl thing so fine, juice boxes, she said she'd bring the drinks, and Hotch was amused to see that like last week, she'd chosen another chocolate beverage. This time YooHoo.

Now that was all she _needed_ to bring. That was all she _said_ she was going to bring, but he could see there were also carrot sticks, baggies full of dried fruit, potato chips, bottles of water, and a Tupperware container full of something he couldn't see. His mouth started to quiver.

"Do you think you brought enough food?"

Sighing she started to sort the food out, "I know. But I wanted to make sure there was enough," she turned to see Jack doing somersaults next to them and she smiled a little as she said softly, "growing boys and all."

She really wanted to have kids some day and it wasn't until she started packing their lunch that she realized she had no idea what three year old boys ate. And she started to panic, that seemed like a base requirement to motherhood, being able to feed your child. So what kind of mother would she be if couldn't even instinctively know what to pack for a little picnic? So in her 'ticking biological clock panic,' she just started throwing everything into her beach bag.

But yes, she could see now that it was all laid out on the tablecloth, it was kind of a lot of food. And she was saying that as someone who was always hungry.

Hotch's expression softened as he realized that she was actually nervous. Then he remembered that for all of the contact she had with children on their cases, she really didn't have much experience taking care of them. And she worries about everything so she probably thought if she packed the wrong thing Jack wouldn't eat and she would have felt terrible. He shook his head, oh Emily, what am I going to do with you?

Reaching over, Hotch squeezed her knee, "you did a good job. He likes all of these things."

Emily started to turn slightly pink as she realized Hotch figured out she was nervous about what she'd brought. She rolled her eyes slightly, well of course he figured it out. He was Hotch. And the more time they spent together the more she found all of her insecurities were just an open book for him. That was both horrifying and comforting. She wasn't used to anyone being able to read her that well, it was occasionally a little unsettling. But at the same time, he always knew just what to say to make her feel better. Like now. So unsettling yes, but, her eyes crinkled, in a good way. If that was possible. Either way she was getting used to it.

Giving him a sheepish smile she nodded, "thanks. I just didn't know what to pack so I packed everything." Hotch's mouth quivered, "well between you and him I doubt we'll have much leftover," she shot him a dirty look which he ignored as he tipped his head down to the Tupperware, "speaking of leftovers, what's in the container?"

Her face lit up as she started to work the edges of the cover, "oh this is something I used to eat when I was little. My dad made them for me," the cover popped off, "ants on a log. Celery sticks with peanut butter and then raisins on top." Hotch peered over the container and smiled, "he'll love it." She looked over hopefully, "really?"

Nodding firmly he grabbed a bottle of water, "yeah, he likes all of those things, plus it has a disgusting name." His eyes crinkled, "that's really all you need know about feeding little boys. If you want to give them something healthy, make it sound gross." Emily chuckled as she looked back over to Jack, "good to know."

Hotch looked over the food spread out in front of them. It was still really early and there was plenty to last them through the afternoon. Glancing up he saw Emily smiling as she looked at Jack playing army men. He could see how much she wanted him to like her, so he decided for once Jack didn't have to start with sandwiches. He patted the ground next to him.

"Hey buddy come on over and let's have lunch. You can play after." Jack came streaking up, stood there for a second and then, to Hotch's amusement, plopped down next to Emily.

She looked down and smiled, "hi." And he grinned happily back, "hi." Emily rubbed his back and Jack leaned into her side as they both looked over at Hotch and Emily asked, "okay, what's first?" Then she scrunched her brow when he didn't answer, "Aaron?"

Hotch blinked, realizing he'd been staring at the two of them together. It was a little eerie how much they looked alike. But as he thought about it he realized, Jack clearly took after him. And he and Emily had the same coloring so he supposed it wasn't _that_ odd that Emily looked like she could be Jack's mother. He stared at them for another second, caught the look of vague concern on Emily's face, and realized if he didn't answer her soon she was going to assume he was having a stroke. He shook his head slightly to move the thought of children with Emily out of his brain, and turned his attention back to the food in front of them.

"Sorry, got distracted," he gestured down to the Tupperware, "well I thought we could start with your special snack." He turned his attention to his son, "buddy you want to try a treat Miss Emily made for you." Jack nodded, "uh, huh." Hotch gestured that she could do the honors and Emily took out one of the celery sticks. Hotch's eyes crinkled when he saw she'd made sure to cut them all in half so they wouldn't be too big for little fingers to hold. She was a natural.

Still holding the celery stick for him, Emily looked at Jack and smiled, "my daddy used to make these for me when I was little. You want to take a bite and see if you like it?" Jack opened his mouth and she started to laugh, "I guess that's a yes." She put the celery up to his mouth and he chomped down, chewed for a second and then his little face lit up, "it tastes yummy!" He swallowed before putting his hands up to take the celery from her, and then he took another bite and nodded as he looked at his father, "it's good daddy."

Grinning like an idiot Emily looked back at Hotch, "he likes it!" He huffed, "yes, he likes it. And you didn't even tell him the name yet." Her eyes popped open, "oh yeah!" She looked back at Jack, "it's called 'ants on a log'." Jack stopped chewing, looked down at the raisins, and looked back up at her with a big grin, "COOL!" and he ripped off another bite.

Emily was so happy he liked them that before she knew what she was doing she'd leaned down and kissed Jack on the top of the head. He smelled like baby shampoo. And as that thought hit her she realized what she'd done, and started to feel her face get warm.

It was one thing to kiss Hotch, another thing entirely to go around kissing his son. She and Hotch had known each other for years, they were close friends, but she'd just met his son a week ago. He might think that was a little inappropriate.

But when she looked up, expecting Hotch to give her a look, there was nothing like that. He just smiled softly at her, "can I try one of your celery sticks Agent Prentiss?" She stared at him for a moment, looking for a reproach that wasn't there, and then her eyes crinkled, "yes sir."

She held the box up for Hotch to take one and then looked down to see Jack was almost done with his. And somehow he'd managed to get peanut butter on his shirt. Her eyes crinkled, it was a little navy golf shirt, like Hotch was wearing, except it had a fire truck on the side pocket. Then she looked down at his little sneakers, and his chubby little bare legs. She bit her lip, he was so adorable, she just wanted to squish him.

When Jack finished his celery he looked down at his shirt and then back up at Emily. "Miss Emily I gotted peanut butter on me." She smiled, "it's 'got' honey and yes, I can see that," she grabbed one of the napkins from the pile and started cleaning him up. And she was amazed that he sat so patiently while she did it. God, he was so well behaved! She'd been around other people's children, and as much as she liked kids, she knew many of them were little terrors too.

Once she'd wiped the mess off his shirt, she put a straw in one of the juice boxes and gave him a half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As he started happily munching away, a dribble of jelly ran down his chin and her lip quirked up. He'd need to be hosed down by the time they were done.

When she looked up she saw Hotch staring at her and she started to feel her face get warm again. Crap. Did she just totally overstep? This was his kid, maybe she shouldn't be doing so much. Maybe she should just let Hotch take care of him. She was just about to open her mouth to apologize when Hotch's face softened, "you're really good with him." And she blinked.

"Um, thanks."

Okay, that was the second time she'd totally read the situation wrong today. And she never read Hotch wrong. That's when she realized maybe she was a little uptight about Jack. She really liked him, and he wanted him to like her. And she didn't know how to make a small child like her. She could bond with their victims, and, she shuddered, their UNSUBS, but she'd never tried to just 'make friends' with a little person. But clearly Hotch wouldn't have asked her out with them again if he didn't _trust_ her with his child. And clearly Jack did already like her. He sat down next to her, and then turned to her for help with his peanut butter spill. So maybe she should just relax and enjoy herself. She was having a good time, except for the brief moments of panic when she thought that _Hotch_ thought she was acting like a psycho. Which seemed to just be her own psychotic projections, and that's when she decided she'd stop freaking herself out needlessly. She looked back up at Hotch and smiled, "thanks for letting me have lunch with you guys. I'm having a really good time."

Eyes crinkling Hotch reached down to grab a peanut butter sandwich which he handed to her rather than keeping for himself.

"Eat something. You'll need your energy. And in case you hadn't noticed we're having a really good time too so you don't need to thank me," he gave her half a dimple, "I believe it's already been well established that I enjoy your company Emily."

She grinned, yeah, that had been well established.

Once Hotch was sure she saw his point there he continued, "and beyond that, I think it's obvious," his eyes shifted down, "you have a new best friend." Emily looked down to see Jack leaning against her side as he slurped his Yoohoo. She hadn't even felt him move over. She put her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder, "is that good hon?" Nodding he flicked his eyes up to her, and then took a deep breath after he pulled the straw out of his mouth, "uh huh, I like chocolate milk." She smiled as she put her straw in her own drink, "me too. What else do you like?"

Hotch slowly chewed his sandwich as he listened to Emily and Jack talking about chocolate milk and Spongebob and monkeys. A little earlier when she was cleaning him up and getting his drink and sandwich Hotch had started staring at her again. Fortunately she was distracted enough not to notice this time. But he'd had that same pang in his gut that he had last week. He wasn't sure what that was but given the two people involved he figured it was a good thing and he wasn't going to worry about it too much.

Emily was his closest friend, he realized then, his best friend. And she wasn't going anywhere. This wasn't a romantic relationship. There was no possibility they were going to 'break up' their friendship. The idea was laughable. So she was now a permanent fixture in his life, and he wanted her to know his son. The other permanent fixture in his life. He wanted them to get to know each other. Emily was a good, sweet, kind person. Jack should know people like that. If Hotch had it his way Jack would only know the Emilys of the world, none of the bad people.

But that was a fool's dream.

The best he could do for his son was to protect him, teach him strong values, and set a good example. And then hope that when he grew up he'd remember those things. Hotch wanted so badly to teach him to find the goodness in other people. But it was hard when so often Hotch had difficulty doing that himself.

But . . . his eyes crinkled as he watched Emily wiping the jelly off Jack's fingers . . . Emily was nothing but good. And therefore nothing but good could come of Jack's association with her. If she wanted to, he'd like to make this 'running into each other' a regular occurrence. Not that Emily didn't have a life of her own to lead. But Hotch knew that beyond errands, she didn't often have set weekend plans. Her social circle was about the same size as his. And he could see, just in the level of fascination she had for a three year old's hobbies, that she very much wanted to spend more time with him. He'd talk to her about it after. But right now, he eyed the Tupperware container again, he was going to try another one of those ants on a log things. Those were good.

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_A/N 2: Ants on a log are quite good. We used to make them in kindergarten. And I hate celery and I still enjoy them. So celery, peanut butter on top, raisins on top of that. Kids like 'em._

_YooHoo, is kind of like chocolate milk but it got vitamins in it and it mostly comes in those little juice boxes. Even though obviously if it's a milk, then it's not a juice :)_

_And you can see Emily's relationship with Jack is part of what starts pushing Hotch's subconscious to see her in a new light. Still just his subconscious though. It's interesting for me writing these opening scenes of them forming their little triumvirate. Going into what they're thinking when those bonds are forming. Like the first time Emily kissed Jack. Seriously, if you're not related to a child and you kiss him then you're going to freeze up for a second, like 'crap, that probably wasn't cool.' Even if it turns out you're worrying needlessly. When I introduced Jack in the Hours, they're little happy family relationship was well established. These are the little moments that got them there._

_You might be happy to know I finally got the public indecency story done. It needs a polish but it might be going up after the next one. I think you'll enjoy it. Emily's nemesis plays a large role. And if anyone can correctly guess who her nemesis is, then I'll give you a sneak preview of the chapter before it goes up :)_

_Next: "__**Horror Movie, Schmorror Movie**__"_


	78. Horror Movie, Schmorror Movie

**Author's Note**: I intended to put this up much earlier but as I was reading through it I started adding things here and there. Seriously, this has been done for over a month and I was just doing a quick final read through today before I posted. I added 2000 words! Redamndiculous! But I do like this version better.

And FYI, the 'Schmorror' movie in question is The Descent. And if you've always wanted to see this movie but never got around to it, I should probably mention that I totally blow the ending for you here. So read at your own risk.

**Challenge Announcement**: I put up a new bonus challenge yesterday. Finale Fix! You can get to the forum off my profile page. I'd put the link but I can never post links in the story, it always goes kerflewy. And if English is not your native language, I'll tell you now, 'kerflewy' is not actually a real word so don't bother trying to look it up :) It just means messed up.

We already have one story up from IrigD. Kavi's working on one and I'm hoping I can get the first part of mine up tomorrow. I have a whole multi-part thing in my head, and the first section, fortunately is mostly done. And I hope to see more of you decide to play :)

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_Early September: Sunday_

**Horror Movie, Schmorror Movie**

Crap!

Emily scowled as she slowly walked down the sidewalk . . . now what was she supposed to do? She needed a ride and a cab was going to be really expensive. She chewed her lip for a moment, and then she sighed as she began digging her phone out of her bag.

God, she didn't want to call him. He was probably going to make fun of her. But she didn't want to call Morgan either . . . that would be worse.

Crap.

Dropping her head to her chest, she took a deep breath and then hit speed dial 1.

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Hotch reached over to grab his buzzing cell off the table.

"Hey."

"Hi," Emily swallowed, "are you busy?"

After shifting the phone to his other ear, Hotch picked up Jack's backpack.

"Not really," he continued as he started going around the room collecting his son's things, "I'm just about to drop Jack off at Haley's. What's up?"

Emily sighed.

It was better to just rip the band aid off. He was like a really grumpy Santa, he always knew what you were up to anyway so there was no point in beating around the bush. So she just blurted it out.

"I've been drinking a little bit, could you please pick me up?"

And then she braced herself, waiting for the mockery.

Hotch paused in the middle of the room, his tone immediately softening.

"Of course I'll pick you up Prentiss. Where are you?"

Hearing the completely lack of mockery in his tone, Emily wrinkled her brow.

Okay, so apparently he _wasn't _going to make fun of her. That was good though, because she SO wasn't in the mood for it.

And that note of relief in his reaction was apparent in her voice as she answered him.

"I'm at Garcia's."

Hotch scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Why were you getting drunk at Garcia's on a Sunday afternoon?"

Not that it was normal for her to be getting drunk anywhere _else_ on a Sunday afternoon, but that just seemed particularly . . . odd.

With an indignant huff Emily knitted her eyebrows together.

"I am not _drunk_. I'm just . . . buzzed. I had a couple of beers and no food and . . . ah geez."

She rolled her eyes, might as well tell him the whole thing whether he wanted to hear it or not.

"Okay," she huffed, "this is what happened. Garcia and Kevin had a big fight and she called me this morning and asked if I would come over and watch 'anti-love stories,' which in Garcia vernacular turned out to mean _actual_ horror movies. Blood, guts, the whole nine yards. So she makes popcorn and force feeds me beer and it's all well and good for a few hours until Kevin shows up at the door ten minutes ago with an honest to God bouquet of X-Men action figures."

Hearing Hotch chuckling, Emily paused, and then he cut in with a question.

"And you got kicked out?"

"They were sucking face in the doorway Hotch!" she yelled back. "The two of them with the X-Men jammed between them. They leaned back to take a breath and I saw an imprint of Wolverine on Kevin's neck. I grabbed my bag and bolted over them before I saw anything else I couldn't unsee!"

On the other end of the line Hotch's mouth was twitching . . . nobody could paint a picture quite like Emily Prentiss.

He cleared his throat.

"I see, well that does sound like an unfortunate encounter."

Hotch grabbed his keys and started shuffling his son towards the door. Jack was chattering to Mr. Bobo about something, so Hotch was actually able to devote his full attention to Emily and her mini-crisis. And after he'd locked up, with an amused shake of his head Hotch took Jack's hand.

"So where are you now?" He asked while walking them down the hall.

She blew out a puff of air, "in front of Garcia's standing on the street corner."

As he hit the elevator button, Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"Standing on the corner, huh? How's business today?"

Emily smiled . . . and people thought Hotch didn't have a sense of humor. He did, just not when they were working. Or out in public. Or when he was around people that he didn't know. Or people that he did know. Okay . . . she tipped her head . . . apparently Hotch just had a sense of humor around her. She hadn't really noticed that before. Huh. She scrunched up her eyebrow . . . well she'd put that aside for now. The man did ask a question and she answered him with a smirk.

"A little slow. I'm thinking about working the 'heaving bosom' angle. So unless _you_ want to see something you can't unsee, you might want to hit the gas buddy."

Hotch's dimple appeared.

"I'm coming! We're almost to the car. Twenty minutes. And Prentiss?"

"Yeah?"

Hotch stepped into the lobby.

"Don't forget I have Jack with me, so why don't you keep those things under wraps for now?"

Lips twitching, Emily's gaze dropped to the sidewalk, "understood _sir_. Just so you know, that means I won't have the cash to tip you."

They had just arrived at the car and Hotch rolled his eyes as he replied sarcastically.

"Oh Prentiss, don't you worry about that. The X-Men sucking face visual was thanks enough for me." He could have used some Windex to wipe that one from his brain.

Emily smiled, "yeah, well, the world's a scary place. See you in twenty."

"Wait hold on one second," he clicked Jack into his booster seat and slammed the back door shut. Then he lowered his voice, "Emily seriously, do me a favor and get off the corner before some stranger really does offer you a ride."

That's all he needed for a visual as he drove down there. Her mildly intoxicated and getting solicited in the gathering twilight.

Her expression softening, Emily started looking around for someplace else to wait.

"Okay Hotch. I think I see a bench in the courtyard."

"Good, wait over there," he stuck the key in the ignition, "see you in a bit." He threw the phone onto the seat beside him and looked up in the rearview mirror at Jack.

"Hey buddy, before we go to mommy's house we're going to go see Miss Emily, okay?"

Jack grinned, "yay! I like Miss Emily!"

With a chuckle, Hotch started the car.

"Yeah, I like Miss Emily too."

/*/*/*/*

Hotch got held up in a little traffic so it was closer to twenty five minutes before he got to Garcia's. And when he pulled up Emily was back on the corner again. He started to give her a look as she got in the car but she quickly cut him off, explaining that she'd just moved back out there when she thought he'd be arriving so she wouldn't miss him. Then she shifted her attention to the passenger in the back seat. Exchanging exuberant hellos with her new friend Jack while Hotch took in her fitted jeans and pink tank top with the spaghetti straps.

Spaghetti straps were one feature of women's clothing he was quite familiar with. He thought they were a fine invention. As did many other men, and he had a feeling she'd probably caught some attention.

He raised his eyebrow at her.

"And in the few minutes that you were standing on the corner _after_ you told me that you wouldn't, did any strangers offer you a ride?"

With a sigh Emily leaned back against the seat . . . she'd been expecting the question.

"Just the one. He was a harmless, though persistent, good Samaritan." She gave Hotch a sweet smile, "I told him my husband was picking me up. If we ever run into Manny again, you're a teamster and work down on the docks."

Mouth quivering, Hotch pulled back into traffic.

"The docks huh. I don't know if I have the right shoes for that."

Emily's eyes crinkled and then Jack, picking up one word out of their conversation, piped up the best advice he had on that topic. He yelled out from the backseat.

"Miss Emily you never ever take rides from strangers!"

Emily looked up at him in the rearview mirror and she nodded seriously.

"That's right buddy. Never, ever, _ever_, take rides from strangers. And I didn't. I told the man no thank you and I waited for you and your daddy."

Flicking his eyes over for a second, Hotch gave her an amused look.

"See, even Jack thinks that you should have waited for us in the courtyard."

The corner of Emily's mouth quirked up as she turned her head to look out the window.

"Well, far be it from me to argue with _both_ the Hotchner boys. So next time," she rolled her eyes, "God help me if there's a next time, I _promise_ I will wait in the courtyard."

Hotch reached over and squeezed her hand.

"Good."

That's all he wanted to hear.

/*/*/*/*

When they got to Haley's, Emily stayed in the car while Hotch brought Jack up to the door. An older woman that Emily didn't recognize answered. But given her features Emily's presumed it was Haley's mother. That supposition was pretty much confirmed when the woman saw Emily and shot gave her a scathing look over Hotch's shoulder.

Scathing enough to hit Emily's Catholic guilt head on and make her squirm slightly in her seat.

The look made her feel like she was doing something wrong simply by being in the car with a man that had been divorced for more than six months from this woman's daughter. Not to mention, _she'd_ left him.

But . . . as always . . . logic was a weak opponent against guilt.

Fortunately though, that moment of discomfort was countered by Jack then waving from the door and yelling with a big grin, "bye bye Miss Emily!" To which of course she responded in kind, waving and yelling back, "bye bye Jack."

And that only seemed to piss off Haley's mother even more and Emily was glad when Hotch came back to the car. She looked over at him nervously, "okay, Haley's mom hates my guts."

Though of course she had no relation to this woman . . . and probably wouldn't see her again . . . Emily still just didn't much care for the sensation of having _anyone's_ mother looking at her like she was a whore.

Hotch clicked his seatbelt as responded in exasperation, "Haley's mom hates everybody's guts. Don't take it personally," he looked over at her, "she deliberately called me 'John' for the first six months Haley and I were dating."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, Emily tipped her head as she looked back at him, "why John?"

That didn't sound anything like Aaron . . . or Hotchner for that matter.

Hotch shot her a smirk, "because that was the boyfriend right before me. And that was her oh so subtle way of telling me that she liked him better."

Passive aggressive was Shirley's specialty.

Emily chuckled, "I see. Well, then it's rather ironic that she was looking at me like I was Hester Prynne."

That at least made her feel a little bit better. It definitely wasn't just her.

The more he thought about it, the more annoyed Hotch was that she had to put up with that crap. It was bad enough that HE still had to deal with her occasionally, Emily should be completely immune.

"Just ignore her," he scowled, "Everybody else does." Then he started the car, pulled a U-Turn, and headed back towards their homes in neighboring Arlington.

After a few minutes went by in silence he started to let his irritation go and he flicked his gaze across the seat.

"So how much did you drink? You don't seem too bad."

Her eyes were a little glassy, and her complexion was a bit pink, so he could tell by looking that she wasn't completely sober. But otherwise she seemed basically okay.

Emily leaned her head back against the seat as she closed her eyes and did a mental calculation.

"Um, five beers over two hours," she opened one eye to look at him, "and before you raise that eyebrow, yes I know the sun was still out. But Garcia was all weepy and she didn't want to drink by herself. So every time _she_ got a drink, _I_ got a drink. And she doesn't let you nurse a beer. It's like a frat house with troll dolls."

Though Hotch snorted at the visual, Emily kept talking.

"Plus she kept promising me pizza, so I wasn't too worried at the time. I figured I'd get food, we'd watch a few more movies and all would be well by the time I left. Then Kevin showed up and put the kybosh on those plans." She picked up her bag off the floor, "oh but while I was waiting for you, maybe fifteen minutes after I hit the bricks, Garcia did finally take note of my absence and she called to see where I was. Then she came out and gave me the DVD of the movie we were watching. Apparently as a peace offering for throwing me out in the street buzzed and having no transportation home." Emily wrinkled her brow, "huh, when I say it out loud like that, that was a pretty crappy thing to do to me."

Hotch made a face.

"It was actually. Especially given that you were the one that was doing her the favor by coming over."

"Yeah," Emily scowled indignantly "I should totally be mad at her right now." Then she made a face and deflated. "Eh, but being mad takes so much effort. And who has the time?" She sighed, "I guess I'll just let it go."

She was terrible at holding grudges. Not that she aspired for that to be a thing of hers, but really, it was just so hard to be bothered staying pissed off about anything anymore. Even when she got royally screwed, all she could think was how it didn't really matter and she ended up just letting it go. That was the one 'benefit' of having a crappy job like theirs.

You always had perspective.

Eyes crinkling, Hotch flashed her another look, "that's very big of you Prentiss," He looked back to the road, "now switching gears slightly, I assume, seeing as your pizza never arrived from the promise land that you probably are starving. It's almost six and I haven't eaten either, do you want to get one now?"

Emily shot him a big grin as she nodded.

"Yes please," then she raised her eyebrow hopefully, "and hey, we can finish watching the movie?"

He shot her a glare.

"Prentiss I _don't_ want to watch some slasher movie. I get enough of that at work." She started jumping up and down excitedly in her seat, "it's not a slasher movie I promise! It's called The Descent, it's psychological, claustrophobic," she tipped her head, "at least everything I saw was. I got like thirty minutes into it." Biting her lip, she made her best puppy dog eyes, "please can we watch it?"

Hotch glanced over at her. He never could resist that face. Looking back to the road, he rolled his eyes. He was just glad she never pulled it out at work. As they came to a stop at the red light he sighed dramatically.

"_Fine_, we can watch your movie."

Emily bopped her head, "yay!" She saw Hotch's eyes crinkle at her enthusiasm, but hey, this was quite the coup. There was no way she thought she'd get him to agree to watch anything that was in Garcia's top ten. Or Reid's for that matter. Hotch's taste in movies was quite different than the rest of the team's. And she'd spent enough random Saturdays with all of them over the past couple years to know who liked what.

Well, except Rossi, they didn't hang out. But as to the rest of the team, her tastes were rather eclectic so basically she could watch anything the others wanted to. Though she had noticed favorites wise, she and Hotch did have more in common overall than she did with the rest of them. It was curious how many things she'd discovered over the past few months that she and Hotch had in common. Movies, books, music, politics, basic values, and the most surprising of all, sense of humor. Shaking her head, she pulled out her cell phone.

"I'll call in the order," she glanced over at him as the light turned green, "mushroom and pepperoni?"

He nodded his approval of her choice for dinner and Emily began scrolling through the P's on her speed dial.

There were three listings for 'Pizza-Work' and three listings for 'Pizza-Home.' She and Hotch had all the same numbers under both descriptions. She was the one that gave him the recommendation for the best take out places when he moved to the neighborhood. They all had good pizza but some places had better subs and some places had better salads. Plus they all had slightly different hours, and given their schedules, the hours were what was most important.

After the pizza was ordered she settled back and asked Hotch about his day with Jack. Candyland marathon. Hotch told her he could have used four or five beers himself. Then she ran down all the scary things Garcia had threatened to do to Kevin.

They agreed that at least two of them were violations of both state and federal statutes.

/*/*/*/*

When they stopped to pick up the pizza, Emily insisted on paying as thanks for the ride. Hotch was not a fan of this decision. But after a brief staring contest, he finally shoved his twenty back in his wallet and nodded his assent. He knew if their positions were reversed he would have insisted too. Though to his amusement, even though she had insisted on paying, she had no problem whatsoever with him carrying the box.

Lips twitching he accepted it from her outstretched arms.

"Guess that women's lib only goes so far huh?"

And she scowled at him, "it's hot. Do you want me to burn myself?"

He looked down at her incredulously.

"It's not on FIRE Emily! And if it really was _that_ hot why are you okay with me getting burned?"

What the hell?

Emily frowned as she opened the door for him.

"Of course I'm not okay with you getting burned. You know I don't want that. I'm just less okay with _me_ getting burned."

He knew she had a thing about burns, so why was he questioning her on this?

Hotch stopped short on the sidewalk, looking down at her with a scowl.

"Okay, is this 'Emily first' attitude restricted only to scalding my flesh, or am I pretty much on my own now if a bullet comes zipping at my head?"

When Hotch spoke, Emily had been walking slightly in front of him, and at his unexpected reproach she felt a stab of pain in her chest. She stopped, turning back to stare at him for a moment. Her eyes began to sting.

_Why would he ever say something like that? _

She walked back over and touched his cheek.

"I wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for you," her voice got husky, "don't you know that?"

Hearing the pain in her voice, Hotch winced. Suddenly he felt like a complete and utter asshole for saying what he did. He hadn't meant for his words to actually hurt her, he was just annoyed. But he realized then . . . he'd also been MORE than a little overdramatic in his response.

So with his free arm he pulled her close. Then he kissed her forehead before whispering against her skin.

"I'm sorry, of course I know that."

Though he would never want her to sacrifice herself for him. If either of them were ever going down with a bullet hole, he was going to make damn sure that it was him and not her. And as that thought came to him, that just made him feel like a bigger ass for what he'd said to her. He didn't even _want_ her to take the damn bullet and he'd made her feel badly.

He looked down at her and sighed.

"I didn't mean to be such a jerk," he touched her chin, "I am sorry."

She nodded, brushing her cheek against his chest.

"It's okay, I just uh, have a thing about burns," she looked back up at him, "and I guess I assumed I'd told you that," her eyes dropped to the ground as she finished softly, "but apparently not."

As she thought about it, she knew of course she hadn't. She'd just assumed she had because sometimes it felt like she'd told him everything. But that was one thing that she didn't discuss, or more particularly she didn't discuss the reasons _behind_ that particular phobia. Maybe someday she'd tell him, but they weren't there yet.

"No," Hotch shook his head slowly, "no I didn't know that. And I hope you know I would never have said anything if I had."

Feeling the tension leaving the moment, Emily leaned back to gave him a little smile.

"I know. And I can see how what I said would have looked kind of jerky on my part if you didn't have any context for it." She tipped her head, "so are we good?"

They didn't fight very often, but when they did they were always sure to make up quickly. In that respect she realized this was probably the healthiest relationship she'd ever had. Things didn't fester, there were no hidden resentments. They enjoyed spending time together, they valued their friendship above all else, and they made damn sure not to do anything to jeopardize it.

His eyes crinkled as he tucked her hair back behind her ear.

"Of course." They stared at each other for a moment and then his eyes flicked over to the pizza in his other hand.

"So do you want to eat at your house or my house?"

"Your house," she gave him a sheepish smile, "it's closer and my beers are catching up with me."

She'd actually had to pee since they were at Haley's house. Things were getting dire.

With a chuckle, Hotch slipped his arm around her shoulders and started walking them over to the car.

"Okay then, my house it is."

/*/*/*/*

When they got to Hotch's, he unlocked the door and stepped back as Emily bolted past him down to the bathroom. He knew they were running on borrowed time there.

And while she was gone he started setting things up in the living room.

Emily felt ten times better after that little trip to the bathroom. And fortunately her head was also feeling infinitely clearer after a few glasses of water and a couple pieces of pizza. They'd restarted the movie from the beginning, and as Emily wiped her hands off she looked over and was relieved to see Hotch was actually paying close attention as the women started fighting about the maps.

He was only watching it because she asked him to, so she did want him to at least find it interesting. Emily had already seen this part so she ran to the bathroom again and then refilled their drinks before settling back in next to him on the couch. Their arms brushed as she pulled her feet up under her and then she leaned over and put her head on his bicep. It was the only way she liked to watch television now.

Hotch was a really good pillow.

Time passed as things went from bad to worse on the underground excursion. Hotch reached to grab his soda . . . he was pretty impressed with the movie so far. It wasn't what he had expected.

Though . . . his eyebrow twitched slightly at the protruding leg bone . . . he could have done without that. He looked over to gauge Emily's response . . . wrinkling her nose in distaste. He knew she hadn't gone this far in the movie last time so this was all new. Turning back to the television, he was just in time to see a shape suddenly pop up behind the women.

And then a split second later he had a lap full of warm girl.

He hadn't had that happen in about two years . . . it was nice. And he looked down with a straight face to a bright pink Emily.

"Sorry, that thing just scared the crap out of me. I'll just . . ."

And then she put her hand down for leverage to get up. But she put it in the wrong place.

Very much the wrong place.

Hotch immediately grabbed it back with a hissed, "_Prentiss_!" And Emily turned from pink to a lovely shade of scarlet.

Her eyes snapped shut as she whispered.

"Oops."

Shaking his head sadly he looked down at her, "and you're actually sober now, aren't you?"

She nodded, still with her eyes shut, "sadly yes. This is all me."

And that was all Hotch. A part of him that she had NO business touching!

Opening her eyes she started to put her hand down to shift again and he shook his head at her.

"Uh, no, allow me before your wandering hands result in a situation that irreparably damages our working relationship."

She nodded sheepishly as he reached down and picked her up, placing her back next to him on the cushion. Now utterly mortified, Emily slid her way to the opposite end of the couch.

At the same time, Hotch rolled the movie back a minute so they could catch up on what they missed while Emily was copping a feel. As he glanced down at her, he had to fight the appearance of the dimples at his amusement over her reaction.

Of course he knew it was an accident. It was just very much an _Emily_ type accident.

And once the movie started up again Hotch saw it was a downhill slide for the women after the creature appeared. Even he even winced once. Though he wasn't generally much for horror movies, this one actually had a real plot and real actors so he was willing to put up with the recent escalation in gore. Then he glanced over to Emily again. He wasn't used to her sitting so far away.

It was strange.

And he could see that now she had pulled her knees up to her chest and was watching with one eye shut.

His eyes crinkled . . . oh Emily.

With an amused huff he reached over and dragged her back down the couch to sit next to him again. Then he whispered in her ear, "safety in numbers," before turning back to watch the movie.

As she looked over to give him a soft smile of thanks, Emily was reminded yet again of something most people didn't know about Hotch given his usually severe countenance.

He was actually very sweet.

And . . . she huffed to herself . . . brave. She couldn't believe he was letting her sit this close after her grabby hands incident earlier.

That was just not cool.

Still keeping her knees pulled up, she did relax enough to tip her head onto his shoulder. Then he reached over to thread their fingers together and she smiled.

_Yeah, this was much better._

Though she did occasionally close her eyes completely as they continued to watch the film, it wasn't nearly as often as she had been sitting by herself. Dealing with gross stuff when she was 'Agent Prentiss' at work was one thing. But it was something else entirely when she was just barefoot Emily sitting on the couch eating pizza.

When they got to the end she cringed, turning her face into his shirt.

"Ooh, that's rough."

Hotch had to agree with Emily's usual brand of casual understatement. That girl, maiming her friend with a pickaxe and running off while she was surrounded by flesh eating creatures, was indeed, 'rough.' Hotch tipped his head . . . though . . . said friend actually had been having an affair with her husband which resulted in the death of her child.

Eh . . . he revised his opinion . . . good for her.

He was slightly disappointed in the ending until he realized she hadn't actually escaped. Good. Well not good, but that wouldn't have been realistic. The entire group searches for hours and then suddenly she instinctively finds an exit just in the nick of time. He much preferred this one with her talking to her dead daughter. Though it was . . .

And then Emily cut into his thoughts.

"Oh, that's sad."

Tipping his head down, he looked at her leaning against his side.

She was pouting.

His eyes crinkled as he squeezed her fingers.

"Yeah, it is sad. But she's fictional so I'm sure she'll be okay."

Emily turned her head to look up at him and then she bit her lip as she smiled.

"Yes, I suppose she will be."

Hotch winked, his hand dropping down to pat her knee as he stood up. And while he took out the video, Emily started cleaning up their trash and bringing things into the kitchen. He could hear her muffled voice from the other room.

"I put the leftovers in the fridge and it's almost nine, so I suppose I should get going." Her voice got clearer as she came closer and then she was leaning on the doorframe.

"I can grab a cab from here."

Hotch stopped what he was doing and just stared at her blankly until she smiled.

"Or I could let you take me home."

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his keys and responded sarcastically, "yeah, how about we go with _that_ one." With her lips twitching, Emily pulled her boots back on and picked up her bag, slipping Garcia's DVD inside.

Hotch was still shaking his head at her as he held the door open. Now laughing at his annoyance, Emily lightly smacked him in the stomach as they walked down the hall.

"I was _trying_ to be nice."

He responded drolly as they stepped onto the elevator, "and clearly the _nice_ thing for me to do would be to send you off with a strange man by yourself after dark, knowing full well that you don't have your service pistol with you."

With a weary sigh Emily shook her head at him.

"Hotch, it's statistically unlikely that my cabbie was going to be a Russell Ellwood."

Though she was attempting to mollify him, Hotch's jaw still twitched as he looked away.

"So not the point Emily."

And she could see then that he was actually _genuinely_ annoyed that she thought he'd let her go off by herself to save him a slight inconvenience. And as she thought about it . . . he did have a point.

For an unarmed woman after dark, even non serial killer cab drivers could pose a real danger.

You're getting into a vehicle with a strange man and simply having faith that he will take you where you ask him to and not off to a deserted alley where he rapes and murders you. And they both were certainly more aware than the general public that those things happened with a disturbing frequency.

Her expression softened.

He was just expressing concern about her safety, and she was making light of that concern. Which was was kind of a sucky thing to do.

So as they walked across the parking lot to his jeep, she reached over and took his arm. Then she leaned her head against his bicep.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "you're right. I don't have my gun so my super powers are somewhat reduced right now." Then she sighed dramatically, "I'm almost a mere mortal."

Hotch looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Well I wouldn't go that far."

Seeing the little smile she gave him, he stopped walking as he looked down at her worriedly.

"I just want you to be careful Emily. Look at what happened with Garcia. Just because we aren't on the clock that doesn't mean we're any safer than the average person walking down the street without a vest or a gun. We can defend ourselves a little better in a physical confrontation, but that's it."

The more time they spent together, the more he was aware of her vulnerability as a woman. In the past at least when he worried, it was about work. Mostly anyway. But back then he only saw her as "Prentiss." And Prentiss . . . though of course not utterly invincible . . . was a bad ass.

Prentiss still was.

But now . . . in addition to being Prentiss . . . she was also Emily to him. And Emily was softer. Emily was breakable. She got scared watching horror movies and she cried when she was sad.

Emily could be hurt in ways that he never worried about when she was just Prentiss.

And though he wouldn't change their relationship for anything, sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, he longed for the earlier days. The days when he didn't have these terrible thoughts in his head of all the things that could happen to her.

As they reached his jeep, he hit the button for the locks before looking back down at her. They stared at each other for a moment and then Emily leaned up to put her arms around his neck.

"I am careful," she said softly, "I promise."

Closing his eyes, Hotch squeezed her against his chest. And feeling how soft she was, he was reminded again of how very breakable she was, and his eyes stung as he kissed the top of her head.

With a hard swallow, Emily tried to break the tension as she said with a casualness she didn't feel.

"And let's not forget, I now spend three quarters of my life with you twelve to twenty four inches away from me."

They each pulled back, and as she caught his eyes, Emily also caught his hand as she gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders.

"And I think, that with the two of us together I'm practically immortal."

She could see that something had shaken him. Something to do with her, and she hoped this would be enough to set his mind at ease. Though she knew that he worried, it wasn't usually this much.

Or if he did worry this much, he was usually much better at hiding it from her.

Hotch stared at her for a moment . . . if only. But he didn't say that.

He would never say that.

Instead he pushed his fears back down in the box and turned the lock. Then he winked and squeezed her fingers.

"Practically."

And as she smiled at him in relief, and he watched her walk over to her door, he knew.

_'Practically' was going to have to be good enough._

* * *

_A/N 2: Emily's reference to Russell Ellwood, he was a serial killer/cab driver that was apprehended in New Orleans in the late 90s. I was going to put the explanation in the story but then I realized that really wouldn't make sense. They both KNOW who he is so they wouldn't have to explain it to themselves or each other. Seriously though, be mindful of your cab drivers and keep your cell phones handy. My city had a serial rapist cabbie caught just last winter. And I am personally aware of many, 'near misses' people have had in the past. Basically it's just a strange man offering you a ride._

_I may have mentioned before, but I'm using this story to give their relationship some normal bumps and minor disagreements that I couldn't really have in The Hours. Hotch wasn't going to be snappish or fight over stupid things with her when she was sick. But also, at this point they're still working out a lot of their own personal issues so they're learning together how to make this work. _

_Plus in The Hours, their feelings for one another are much deeper. So their relationship in that story has reached somewhat of an idealized version. But this is a good place to show the give and take that got them to that point. Always recognizing the need to say you're sorry and work out minor issues quickly before they become bigger problems. Just like with the Jack happy family foundation, I see this as a good challenge in writing to get from here to there._

_I've decided to push the posting of the indecency story back to late September. The final version ended up involving more 'sharing' and 'closeness' than I had originally intended. Though it works much better with those elements, progression wise in their relationship, I want to give them a few more weeks to get to that point. The stuff they're doing in that chapter would be a bit of a jump to throw up next. _

_So instead . . ._

_Next: "__**Fine Dining**__"_


	79. Fine Dining

**Author's Note**: This is pretty fluffy

And FYI: There's another finale fix up. This one's from Sami Marie :)

*******************************************

_Early September: Tuesday_

**Fine Dining**

Hotch came over and sat down on the corner of Emily's desk. It was after six and almost everyone else had left for the night. He knew Rossi was still wandering around somewhere though.

Rolling her neck, Emily leaned back to look up at him, "what's up?" He handed her a memo he'd received that afternoon, "are you going to this thing?"

Biting her lip, Emily quickly skimmed the contents of the page, "I haven't seen this before but I flipped through my mail pretty quickly earlier." She started digging into her in-bin and a few seconds later she pulled out a memo from the bottom of the pile.

"Ah huh! Yes, I too have been invited to the gala being hosted by the United Nations International Court of Justice." Emily scrunched her eyebrow as she looked back up at him, "that sounds like some place Wonder Woman would work."

Hotch's eyes crinkled at the random associations she made.

"Well, I'm not sure if _Wonder Woman_ will be there, but I have to go. It turns out Justice has been working on some new human trafficking legislation and they're hitting some sticking points with the member countries. It was felt by the higher ups that this gala would be a good opportunity for us to 'make nice.' So we were told at our senior staff meeting 'all chiefs on deck.'"

At her questioning look at his choice of phrase he shrugged his shoulders, "that was a direct quote. You know Director Levinson was in the navy."

Emily furrowed her brow, "oh yeah, that's right." Then she assessed his slightly dilated pupils, and put that with his earlier inquiry as to her attendance. Her eyes twinkled, "and would you perhaps need an 'escort' to this gala sir?"

Noting that Emily had, of course, seen directly through his attempt at casual subterfuge, Hotch immediately yielded.

"Well . . . yes. It does say 'gala' and 'black tie' and the general connotation would mean attendees would require an . . ." he used her word, 'escort'."

Her lip quirked up, he had gone down much too easily. He must really be desperate. And she had no doubt whatsoever this party was going to suck big time. It was a room full of diplomats. She'd gone to a thousand of these things when she was younger. It was probably best that she was there to make sure Hotch didn't try to drown himself in the punch bowl. She patted his arm comfortingly, "you know me Hotch, any place that's serving free jumbo shrimp, I'm there."

With admirable restraint, Hotch refrained from rolling his eyes and instead asked cautiously, "so you'll go with me?"

Leaning back in her chair she gave him a look of mock astonishment, "are you kidding!? I would be THRILLED to go with you!"

Hotch was too relieved at her agreement to attend that he didn't even acknowledge her sarcastic over exuberance. He didn't know what he was going to do if she had said no. He HAD to go to this thing, he needed a date and he didn't really associate with any women outside the team. So basically his entire list of potential escorts pretty much began and ended with Emily.

For one thing, she was his closest friend, but also there were some inherent sticking points with JJ now. There wasn't really a suitable approach to ask a woman going into her third trimester, who had a live-in boyfriend, if she'd like to get dressed up and go for a night on the town.

And Garcia . . . well, he loved Garcia dearly, but, no. He would sooner have put a dress on Reid than have brought Garcia to make political hash with the International Court of Justice at the UN. They were a completely humorless, straight laced group and would not have known what to do with themselves when presented with a personality as 'colorful' as hers. It would have been fun to _watch_, but he would have gotten in trouble.

So Emily it was, and as he watched her read over the details of the event one more time, smirking in two places, he figured maybe it wouldn't be as awful as he feared. Because at least if Emily was there, he'd have somebody with him that would take the air of the room. There were going to be a lot of egos at this thing. And Emily generally responded to people with an undeserved, overdeveloped sense of self worth, which was most of Washington, with a polite smile and a well placed zing that could bring them to their knees. And she was so good at it they usually never even knew what had happened. His eyes crinkled slightly . . . hmm . . . maybe they could actually have some fun.

Folding up the memo, Emily tucked it in her bag and looked up at Hotch with a little smile.

"You ready to go?"

He started to shake his head, "no, I think I'm going to stay and work on . . ."

Shaking her head sadly, Emily cut him off, "work on what? Paperwork that can wait until the morning? Or . . ." she continued wisely, "paperwork that could _just_ as easily be done in the comfort of your own living room?"

Emily was all for putting in a full day but once you were off the clock there was no reason to sit at your desk and read case files while you drank a cup of cold coffee. Not when you could sit on your couch and read case files with a cold beer.

He looked at her for a second and then sighed, she was right. There wasn't anything on his desk that he couldn't read through at home. He quirked his lip up.

"Okay, you convinced me, grab your stuff." Emily grinned and then called after him as he ran back up to this office.

"Excellent decision sir. And now you're free to buy me a burger as thanks for agreeing to attend this snoozefest with you."

Turning back at the landing, Hotch narrowed his eyes, "was that your sole reason for agreeing to attend Agent Prentiss? Working a free meal? Aren't you already getting the free shrimp?"

She shrugged, "what can I tell you sir? A girl's gotta eat. And a girl _certainly_ cannot live on shrimp alone," she looked at him incredulously, "do you know what my cholesterol would be?"

Lips twitching, he opted not to engage further in a conversation he had no hope of winning. Instead he turned away to go grab his jacket and files.

As they walked to the elevator a few minutes later he turned to her, "so, McDonald's?"

"McDonald's!" Emily was outraged, "this favor is WAY above a paper hat restaurant!"

Incredulous, he stopped just outside the glass doors to look down at her, "but you love McDonald's! That's always where you go when you pick up lunch on the road, and we had to take Jack there on Saturday for McFlurries," he saw her about to open her mouth and shook his head, "and don't give me that it was 'his idea,' I saw you whispering in his ear."

Emily pouted, she knew when she was caught but still she was working a sit down meal here. McDonald's they'd be in and out in thirty minutes. She was trying to keep him out for a couple hours at least. He'd already worked long enough today. And even though she'd told him to bring home his paperwork, she didn't want him working for the next six hours straight. She scrunched her eyebrows trying to think of someplace he absolutely would NOT want to go. Oooh! Got it!

Twisting her mouth as she hit the elevator button, she looked casually back over her shoulder at him, "how about Chick Fil-A?"

She knew that Hotch had a run in with the manager there over a burnt basket o'nuggets. There was no way he was going back.

The elevator arrived simultaneous with the dirty look he shot her, "that was beneath you Prentiss. You know damn well I was right about those nuggets." He raised his eyebrow, "McDonald's, _and _I let you supersize," he tipped his head, "but not the drink though." Seeing the scowl, he countered with one of his own, "you already had too much soda today. All that aspartame crap isn't good for you."

Emily's mouth quivered. Two weeks ago he'd read some article about diet soda being bad for you and ever since then he'd been trying to curtail her ingestion of diet coke. It was an uphill battle about on par with her curtailing his ingestion of black coffee. At some point they were going to have to work out an equitable solution to these dietary concerns because they were driving each other crazy. But today wasn't the day for that conversation. And a large fry did sound really good. She scowled at the floor. Damn him and his perfectly acceptable counteroffers.

Hotch could see she was weakening, she loved her fries, so he tried to bring it home, "you could get a happy meal."

For a moment she looked delighted as they stepped onto the empty car. And then, her countenance changed to disgust, and he realized he'd overplayed his hand.

Scowling indignantly she shook her head at him, "you can't _supersize_ a happy meal," she rolled her eyes, "don't try to play ME sir."

Talking to her like she was a junk food rookie. But that's totally what she deserved for going all weak in the knees over a bag of French fries. She was supposed to be getting him out of the house and she almost sold his soul for a bag of fried potatoes. But, her eyes started to twinkle as she saw his face getting pink, she could see now he was about ready to pop a vessel. McDonald's had definitely been taken off the itinerary.

Rossi was turning the corner just as the elevator doors were sliding closed. All he heard was Hotch yelling.

"FINE Prentiss, we can go to Applebees!" And then the door slammed shut.

Rossi stopped and looked from side to side.

'What the hell?'

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Yes, we will be going with them to their shin dig. That was the main purpose of this chapter, to set up the party. Because really, nothing else happened :) _

_It'll be later in September but I'm going to start working on that next. I've had a couple of scenes for the it rolling around in my head for literally a month and I should probably get them out so I can make room for other things._

_And the UN International Court of Justice is of course a real thing and I've thought for quite some time that Wonder Woman should work there. So you see, much of Emily's ridiculousness is MY ridiculousness :) Now try knowing me in real life, not so much fun! _

_Title of the next one is courtesy of Arc :) It was renamed per her request. Now I'm curious if she'll remember which chapter this is . . ._

_Next: "__**Chasing the Elephant**__"_


	80. Chasing the Elephant

*******************************************

_Mid September: Monday_

**Chasing the Elephant**

Hotch woke up to a light, persistent knocking on his hotel room door. He didn't have his contacts in and he had to squint, trying to read the green letters of the alarm clock.

2:47 a.m.

He sighed. Nothing good comes from getting woken up by a knock at this time of morning. Reaching over, he clicked on the lamp before pushing himself up and stumbling over to check the peephole.

Emily was standing out there in her pajamas. He wrinkled his brow . . . what the hell?

Rubbing his hand down his face, Hotch opened the door and leaned against it as he asked half on a yawn, "what's the matter?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

Hotch blinked and tipped his head, "excuse me?"

Emily rolled her eyes, "not like that. I want to sleep in here. There was just a guy at my door."

Those were trigger words. Hotch was instantly wide awake, his eyes flashing as he quickly pulled her inside the room before leaning out into the hall.

Empty.

Stepping back inside, he flipped the lock and turned to her working his jaw tightly, "what happened?" He thought that was a better response than 'tell me who I have to kill.' Well, better for the court transcripts anyway.

She shook her head in annoyance, "it starts yesterday. When we checked in there was this guy downstairs and I bumped into him in the lobby. And then I saw him again this morning when I was getting on the elevator. Well, it turned out he's on our floor so he saw what room I was in."

Narrowing his eyes, Hotch took a step back towards the door, putting his hand on the knob as he asked tersely, "what room is HE in?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, he was already at the elevator when I got down there. So I have no idea where _he_ came from. I just know that he saw where _I _came from," she paused for a second, "he seemed harmless. He made chit chat each time I saw him but it was just polite conversation so I didn't pay him much attention. He didn't raise any red flags."

She rolled her eyes at her own idiocy. She was supposed to be able to anticipate this crap. But even looking back on it now she couldn't see anything that was notable about him.

As she paused again Hotch took a step closer to her, feeling anger and distress fighting for dominance. This was playing right into his newly found fears about what could happen to her when she was alone. He felt another shot of rage hit his system, and she wasn't even ALONE! She was just down the hall from him! As he saw Emily's hands begin to curl into fists he saw that she was also going with an anger response at the moment.

"Five minutes ago I hear this pounding on my door." The volume of her voice went up as her jaw began to twitch, "It's him! Drunk!" she made air quotes, "'wants to party!'" Pacing back and forth, she muttered to herself, "jackass." Then she raised her voice again as she stared at the floor, "so I got my gun and opened the door. He's practically falling down drunk, tries to take a step in but I flashed my sig and he took off running, well," she tipped her head, "stumbling, but at a good clip, down the hall. And before you ask, no, he didn't go to his room. He hit the fire door like a bullet and went down the stairs," she sighed, "and I didn't feel like chasing him."

Though as she thought about it, maybe she should have. He probably fell ass over teakettle the next flight down. It would have been an easy collar. Of course then she would have had to actually _do_ something with him. And what the hell was she going to charge him with? Knocking on her door? She bit her lip . . . though . . . she could have just kicked the crap out of him for waking her up. Damn it. She scowled, she definitely should have gone after him. She stopped pacing and looked at Hotch.

"I don't think he's necessarily dangerous. I think he's just a drunk loser looking for a good time and he lucked out finding out earlier that there would be a girl on the other side of that hotel room door."

God men were idiots. As though any woman would have responded favorably to a two am booty call from a drunken stranger. He's lucky she didn't shoot him. It would have served him right.

Looking back up she gave Hotch an imploring look, "like I said, I don't think he's dangerous. But on the off chance he shows up again, I don't want to put up with any more crap tonight. I'm convinced if I see him again there's a good possibility I actually will shoot him," she sighed, "and you know that's a lot of paperwork."

Her expression softened as she saw Hotch nod absentmindedly as his eyes dropped to the floor. Only he knew her well enough to understand that wasn't a joke.

Folding her hands together in front of her she leaned down to catch his eyes as she looked at him hopefully, "so please can I stay here?"

It wasn't until after she was knocking on Hotch's door that she realized for propriety's sake maybe she should have gone to JJ's room. Of course that hadn't been her first instinct. Her first instinct was to find Hotch. And she thought nothing of asking to sleep in his room because there was nothing going on between them. Not to mention she'd accidentally fallen asleep in his bed that night out in Ohio so it's not like it would be weird for them.

But she knew other people might think it was odd to see her coming out of his room in the morning. So there was a millisecond of hesitation before she realized there was no way she was going to wake up her pregnant friend and possibly expose her to that lecherous jerk. And with that thought her decision was made for her. Hotch it was. And as she saw his expression soften she knew she'd made the right choice.

"Of course you can stay here Emily," and then his features hardened and his jaw twitched, "and first thing in the morning Garcia's going to run a list of everybody registered on this floor and send you a copy of the driver's license photos of all the men. You will tell me which one knocked on your door and then I will go have a . . ." Hotch rolled his neck, "talk with him."

This guy was dead. He didn't care if he touched her or not. He knocked on the wrong God damn door.

Emily bit down hard on her lip so she wouldn't smile. He was so damn cute all riled up in his pajamas! Generally that version of Hotch came in a suit and tie, not to mention the gun. Right now his hair was all sticking up in spikes and he had on a faded academy t-shirt and flannel blue plaid pants. But he was way too pissed off at the moment to appreciate her amusement at his appearance.

Not that she was one to talk. She also was standing there rumpled in her pajamas, not exactly her most authoritative look. She quirked her eyebrow up, the gun jammed into the waistband of her pants helped a little though.

The funniest part of the whole thing was that she'd already gotten rid of the guy! But hey, if Hotch wanted to put the fear of God into this jackass until he was blubbering like a two year old, which she knew was exactly what he was planning on doing, then Emily was all for it. By the time Hotch was done with him the little weasel would definitely think three times before he asked the next chick if she wanted to party. That was if he still had working parts capable of partying at all.

She sighed. Now that her little drama was addressed she took note of the fact that it was freezing in his room. She started rubbing her bare arms, she just had on her tank top, and her pajama pants only went to her knees. Neither provided the coverage required to enter Hotch's igloo. He was always hot so he kept his room cold. And she didn't carry a robe in her ready bag. Because you know, as a rule, she didn't go traipsing around strange hotels in the middle of the night when they were on the road. She was funny like that.

Seeing there was nothing else to do tonight, Hotch tried to shut his anger down. Emily would pick his picture out of the photo array and the guy would be just as dead in the morning.

Slowly exhaling he finally looked back over to Emily. She was clearly freezing, goose bumps on her arms and legs, and her nip . . . okay Aaron, stop looking in THAT direction. He shook his head and focused on her face as he asked her a clearly rhetorical question.

"Are you cold?"

Shuddering, Emily nodded twice, "yes, yes I am."

He gave her an exasperated look, "so get in the damn bed."

Emily grinned, "you're such a romantic Hotch, have you thought about writing for Hallmark?" He shot her a dirty look and she chuckled as she climbed onto the mattress, slipping her gun out of her waistband, and putting it on the nightstand before she crawled under the covers. Then she bit her lip as she looked over at him with a grin. He was still standing by the door glaring at her.

Shaking his head Hotch crossed the room and got in on the other side of the bed, "if you're going to bust my balls at three a.m. Prentiss I'll roll you up in the comforter and put you in the bathtub." He gave her a look, "you'll be warm and I won't have to share my bed with somebody I'm quite sure is going to steal all the blankets."

She already stole all of his food, he had doubt whatsoever that blankets were fare game as well.

Pausing as she pulled all of said blankets up to her chin, Emily looked over with a smirk as she narrowed her eyes, "you wouldn't make me sleep in the bathtub."

Reaching behind him to fluff his pillow Hotch shot her a quick glance, "oh I wouldn't?" Emily shook her head as she settled back, "uh, uh, you're a gentleman." Quirking his lip up Hotch leaned back on his pillow before he turned to look at her, "you think so, huh?" She nodded enthusiastically, "yep, that's why I know that even though I'm about to do something that I've never done before, you're going to let me do it. And I know for a FACT that you won't even cop a feel, even though my breasts will soon be in perfect feel copping position." She tipped her head as she gave him a knowing look, "THATsir, is how much of a gentleman _you_ are."

Horrified at the possible implications of _that_ statement Hotch's eyes widened in fear, "what EXACTLY are you planning on doing?" She smiled sweetly, "this." Scooting over, she picked up his arm and dropped it over her shoulder. Then she wound her legs around his thigh, wrapped her arm over his torso and put her head on his chest. Then she wrinkled her nose . . . eh . . . not quite right. She picked up her head again so she could see to readjust his arm better around her shoulder. Once she had him arranged to her liking, her eyes crinkled as his warm body started to take down some of the goose bumps. She sighed contentedly, much better. The man was like a human furnace.

His mouth gaping open Hotch looked down at her incredulously. He'd been too shocked to even protest when she climbed on top of him but now he started sputtering, "Prentiss, what the hell?! Get back on your own side of the bed!"

Not only does the woman steal all of his food, AND all his blankets but apparently now all of his personal space was hers too!

Pouting she looked up at him with her puppy dog eyes, she knew this was a job that required both.

"But I'm cold and you're warm," she fluttered her lashes as she pouted sadly, "are you really going to let me freeze Hotch? Is that the _gentlemanly_ thing to do?"

Teeth grinding, he stared at her for a moment, cursing both the pout and the brown eyes before he closed his own brown eyes and shook his head. He thought for a second.

It's not like they hadn't shared a bed before. That night out in Ohio, when she'd fallen asleep watching TV they ended up tangled together when they were sleeping. And nothing happened then and he knew nothing was going to happen now. They didn't have that kind of relationship, and they weren't sixteen. He could certainly be in close quarters with a woman without his body going off and making decisions he hadn't authorized. And . . . he ran his thumb over her arm . . . she was an icicle. Oh, what the hell. Given what happened last time they were probably just going to end up tangled up again anyway. No reason to make her freeze to death in the meantime.

Still with his eyes shut he grumbled, "fine, you can stay."

Breaking into a broad grin Emily patted his stomach, "thanks."

The more time they spent together the more she was discovering there was very little she couldn't talk Hotch into allowing her to do. Well, off duty that is. Because of course she would never take advantage of the perks of their personal relationship when they were on the clock. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of it. That would just be distasteful, not to mention extremely unprofessional.

Opening his eyes, Hotch raised his eyebrow as he looked down at her, "first rule, hands above the waist Prentiss."

It was going to be a little more difficult to keep his body from making unauthorized decisions if she's accidentally copping another feel like she did last week. Oh crap, he'd forgotten about that. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Pfft," Emily scoffed, "please, I barely grazed your pelvis."

"Okay, _second_ rule, no touching anywhere in the pelvic region." And only Emily would consider 'grazing of the pelvis' to be appropriate touching. He snorted to himself, there was really nobody else like her.

Sighing dramatically Emily snuggled in closer, "lot of rules there Hotch. What is this Soviet Russia?"

Shaking his head, Hotch tightened his hold on her shoulder as he fought the appearance of a dimple.

"So sorry Prentiss, the last member of the team I, quote unquote slept with besides you out in Ohio, was Morgan. And as you can imagine, the no touching in the waist or pelvic areas was pretty much implied."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he felt the chuckle vibrate through her body before he heard the sound emanate from her throat.

"Oh man, I would have paid a million dollars to see you give that speech to Derek." She was quiet for a minute before her eyes crinkled and she patted his chest, "tell me that story. I'm not sleepy yet."

She was quite sure she would have remembered if Morgan had mentioned sleeping with Hotch. Quote unquote or otherwise.

Staring up at the ceiling Hotch's jaw quivered as he thought back on that night.

"We were on a consult in Cincinnati and at like three in the morning there was a huge water leak in Morgan's room so he ended up bunking with me. It was only a full size bed. And well," he shook his head, "it wasn't big enough for two full grown men," he trailed off, "I think we actually put a pillow between us," he shuddered "it was not a good night."

Morgan also liked to cuddle. Though Emily did not need to know THAT.

Using his chest for leverage Emily pushed herself up to look at him. Her mouth was quivering, then she snorted and started cracking up, "oh my God, that's freaking HILARIOUS!"

Oh man, she wished she could have walked in on that scene. BAU Christmas card photo. She snorted again and clamped her hand over her mouth.

One of Hotch's dimples finally appeared, "yeah, well, you should probably keep that story to yourself Prentiss. Morgan and I swore we'd never speak of it again so I just broke the guy code." She mimed zipping her mouth, "not a word sir," and then she giggled again as she settled back on his chest. Hotch looked down at her and his eyes crinkled. That was not a story he would have ordinarily told her. Men took the guy code very seriously. But something about the situation made him feel like it was okay. And then he realized what it was.

Pillow talk.

He rubbed his thumb along her arm, "you know I haven't had a woman wrapped around me in bed like this in a long time."

As the words came out of his mouth he realized he probably could have phrased that better. And Emily, still amused from his story a moment earlier, raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him, "okay maybe I need to implement some pelvic rules myself." Hotch scowled at her, "that's not what I meant." His expression softened as he pulled her in closer and rested his cheek on her head, "this, talking, joking, it's nice. I had forgotten."

Before the separation, nights like these had started to become few and far between.

Fisting his t-shirt, Emily smiled against his chest, "yeah, it is nice. I couldn't tell you the last time I did it either. It's been a few years since I was in a relationship that had reached the point where you do stuff like that," she paused as she wrinkled her brow, "I didn't know you could get to that stage without actually having sex."

Hotch's lips twitched, "as a gentleman, I'm going to refrain on making a comment on what that makes you sound like." Emily smacked him lightly on the stomach, "you know what I meant."

Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head, "yes, yes, I know what you meant." She still flicked her eyes up to shoot him a look. So he started running his hand up and down her arm trying to rub away the remaining goose bumps. When she gave him a little smile and put her head back down he knew he'd been forgiven.

Closing her eyes Emily took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. Mmm . . . he was like a big warm teddy bear. She wrinkled her brow. What was the name of that damn bear that was so popular in the 80s? Oh yeah . . . Teddy Ruxpin. That was it. Well . . . she snuggled in closer . . . they should totally market a 'Teddy Hotch.' She snorted to herself as she imagined saying that that out loud to him. She was pretty sure she'd be pushing her luck on whether or not he really would roll her up in the comforter and dump her in the tub.

As Emily closed her eyes Hotch stared at her for a moment, before a shadow of a smile crossed his mouth and he reached over her head to turn off the lamp. His lip quirked up slightly as he put his arm back down around her shoulder, "Prentiss?"

"Hmmm?"

He poked his finger into her arm, "I thought you promised me breasts in feel copping position. Yours are not at all convenient for me to make a move."

Opening one eye she gave him a sleepy grin, "good thing, I'm planning on having them dusted for fingerprints in the morning."

Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head and pulled her in closer, "good night Prentiss."

She smiled as she rubbed her hand across his chest, "good night sir."

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_A/N 2: I think in the Angel Maker story I mentioned at some point I'd tell the story of the night Hotch and Morgan slept together. And there you go!  
_

_The title is in reference to 'chasing the elephant from the room.' Again that's the underlying theme of them being them in THIS world. The more intimate developments in their relationship are not viewed as strange or uncomfortable because they throw things down on the table immediately. Like whether or not Emily's hand is slipping a little too far below the belt, or Hotch can cop a feel with her in the position she's in. I've said before, this is NOT a sexual tension story. It would be rather tedious to write these scenes for the next four months having every moment fraught with a 'will they or won't they' element. It makes me gag just thinking about it. That works for a story where they came together under different circumstances and the awareness of one another was over a shorter duration. You can't sustain that over an extended period, it's annoying. And quite frankly, it would be a pain in the ass to write!_

_Actually I don't know if I said this before, but this story sort of skips sexual tension as being a major plot point at all. Not that they don't recognize physical attraction for one another. They're not eunuchs. But that's another thing they will address. And by the time that's coupled in with their romantic feelings, they've progressed beyond going to bed together. They're both trying to figure out the right time to tell the other they're in love and the physical stuff is kind of secondary to the whole soul mate thing. They have a bigger picture in mind and they don't want to screw things up by doing something stupid that destroys this really great relationship they already have. _

_Now all that said about their sweet little romantic world here, I do have the 'sex based bonding' story coming out at some point (and that's bond__ing__, NOT bond__age__). My special guest beta has had custody of it for a couple weeks and I just remembered I was supposed to remind her to give it back at some point :) And I suppose I should do that now (insert subtle HINT!) or else I'll forget all about it. And then I'll sell my computer someday forgetting it's on my hard drive and the next owner will think I'm writing like porn or something. Now THAT would suck. And now that I've put it off for so long maybe I'll just aim to start Universe C with the advent of summer. Then Girl should be well into October, and Horses will perhaps be rolling towards a conclusion. Plus isn't summer when you're supposed to be reading cheesy sex stories at the beach? I guess you'll have to print it out, or drag your laptops down and get sand in them :)_

_Okay, it's decided, mark it down folks! June 21, that's when "Second Chances" will start going up. _

_I have no idea what's going up here next. I have a chapter half written that was supposed to go in this window of time, but I don't care for the title so I can't give it to you. Plus you know it's not actually DONE. And there are a few other points I want to address anyway. And I don't have drafts done on anything else to even polish so I think I'm dropping off the grid for a few days on everything. _

_So let me know what you think, and let me know if there's anything else you want to see covered. I am open to exploring some new directions on mundane stuff like car shopping and IKEA, so any ideas are welcome. I think I'm going to have Em go fancy dress shopping with JJ. JJ hasn't had any face time lately outside of Horses. And I think one post ep I wrote, but that's it._


	81. Hell Hath

**Author's Note**: Couple people wondered what Hotch would do to the drunk. Ask and ye shall receive ;)

This is the next morning.

**And FYI – The Challenge**: Kavi put up our new prompts a couple days ago so if you're interested you can check them out on the forum. This is set five and I'm not sure if either of us ever pimped set four, but basically there are twelve prompts out there that you might be interested in looking at :)

* * *

_Mid September: Tuesday_

**Hell Hath . . .**

Rossi watched from across the hotel lobby as Hotch walked up and pulled a guy out of the line at the front desk.

His brow wrinkled slightly in curiosity . . . what the hell? Who was that guy? And then when he saw that Hotch was holding the other man by the elbow Dave cringed.

Shit.

He'd seen that look on Hotch's face before . . . he was running hot. And nothing good ever came from that. Well, at least not for the person on the receiving end of his temper.

And then when Dave saw them disappear around the corner he groaned.

Hotch wanted privacy, that's not good. That's not good at all.

Figuring it would be good if Hotch didn't actually kill anyone so close to departure time, Rossi decided to follow after them.

As he hefted his bag over his shoulder Dave nodded to himself . . . a homicide would most definitely screw up his evening plans.

Once he'd realized that they were getting home at a reasonable hour, Dave had called an old acquaintance to see if she'd like to have dinner tonight.

And this was the type of acquaintance who knew that dinner was simply a euphemism for other things. So he'd be DAMNED if Hotch's temper resulted in a situation that prevented Dave from getting laid this evening!

Personally . . . Dave started across the lobby . . . he could give a crap about whoever the numbskull in the cheap suit was. If he'd pissed off Hotch then clearly he'd done something wrong.

Hotch might have a bad temper but he wasn't a loose cannon. It was actually pretty hard to get him as upset as he clearly was now, so in that respect, Dave had no problem whatsoever with him screwing with this guy. He'd done something to deserve it.

No, no . . . he shook his head as he continued down the hall . . . right now Dave's interest in this situation was completely personal.

It took him a minute but Dave found Hotch in an empty function room. Then he raised his eyebrow, watching from the open doorway as Hotch pinned the guy against the wall.

That was the only hand he had on him, just the one on his shoulder, but Rossi could see the guy was scared shitless. He couldn't hear anything that Hotch was saying though. It was just a murmur.

But of course Hotch didn't usually yell. Unless circumstances required him to project his voice, he was pretty soft spoken. And actually . . . Dave tipped his head . . . when he was _very_ angry, his voice was deadly calm. And that seemed to be what was going on right now.

Rossi squinted. Wait . . . was the guy actually . . . he was! He was crying!

Holy shit! What the hell had that idiot done to piss off Hotch THAT much that he'd want to scare him THAT badly? Because it was quite obvious that the point of this encounter was to put the fear of Satan himself into him about something. If he'd planned on arresting him for . . . whatever, then he'd have done it in the lobby. And if he was going to beat the shit out of him, well, he would have already finished with that and been off in the bathroom straightening his tie by now.

No . . . Dave shook his head . . . clearly this was about something else.

Suddenly Hotch let the guy go and jerked his head towards the door.

The poor bastard immediately took off like the hounds of hell were chasing him. And as he ran past with his head down, Dave got a whiff of urine. And when Dave looked down the hall, he could see there was a clear dark spot spreading on the guy's pants.

Jesus Christ! He had actually just PISSED his pants! And that must have been why Hotch let him go. Once a man is scared badly enough that he _urinates_ on himself, clearly your point has been made!

Incredulous, Dave watched as Hotch walked towards him.

His features were still tight and one hand was in a fist. It was obvious he'd come pretty close to actually striking that guy.

Dave threw his hands up in the air.

"Hotch!" He said in disbelief, "what the FUCK was that?! You made him cry AND you made him piss his pants!! What did that guy do to you? Steal your piggy bank? Mug your grandmother!?"

Hotch paused at the doorway, turning back to give Rossi a hard look.

"He upset Emily," he bit out. And then he disappeared around the corner.

Dave stared after him, working his jaw. Then he shook his head as he muttered to himself.

"If that's what he did to him because he 'upset' Emily, I wonder what he would have done if he'd actually 'touched' Emily."

A few images popped into Dave's head and he rolled his eyes.

_'Oh yeah, I definitely would have missed my date with Roxanne.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: I decided to write this totally from Rossi's point of view because I thought Hotch's actual threats were better left to the imagination. Plus, love me some Dave :)_

_Besides this I also finished the dress shopping chapter, and I got the gala started so I kinda, sorta am getting the mid September stuff straightened out. Next chapter actually gives Reid some face time! And I had a request for something with Garcia. I don't have a specific idea right now but I will try to get her onscreen sometime this month as well._

_And a totally unrelated side note. I am doing a little favor for the munchkin because she got an A on her geo mid-term. And she's probably amazed that I remember that, but I did :) So the reason I'm pimping for her is her good grade, NOT because she sucked up. She has a CM poll up on her site and she'd very much appreciate it if people would take a look. Voting would make her happy :) Penname is __**Sassyboots4**_

_Next: "__**Déjà Vu All Over Again**__"_


	82. Deja Vu All Over Again

**Author's Note**: And now for something a little different. Also, I am once again woefully behind on my review thank yous but I am working through them :)

*******************************************

_Mid September: Thursday_

**Déjà Vu All Over Again**

Morgan started tapping his pen against his coffee mug.

Where were Prentiss and Reid? They should have been back at least a half an hour ago. He looked up as Hotch came bolting out of his office.

"ROSSI, MORGAN! YOU'RE WITH ME NOW!"

And he was gone down the steps and out the glass doors before anybody in the room could blink.

A split second later Dave bounded out of his office and down the stairs. He exchanged a quick puzzled glance with Derek before the two men raced after Hotch. They saw he was bypassing the elevators and heading straight for the fire door. What the hell was going on? They ran after him, the two of them slamming through the door a moment after he did. Rossi tried to get them up to speed as they traversed the turns of the stairwell.

"HOTCH, WHAT HAPPENED?"

Hotch was shaking his head, muttering to himself, "can't let them go anywhere together alone." That was a rather ambiguous statement that didn't really answer Dave's question so he tried again.

"HOTCH! WHAT HAPPENED!? **WHERE **ARE WE GOING!?"

That was when Hotch realized Dave was talking to him, and he raised his voice slightly as he finally clued them in to their destination.

"I just got a call from the local P.D. Hold up in progress at the deli!"

Hotch smashed through the door into the parking garage just as the flash of understanding hit Morgan. He almost faltered but Rossi shoved him forward and the two of them went running through the open door a second after Hotch, racing towards the SUV as Derek murmured a plea.

"Oh Jesus Christ, not again."

///////////////////////

_**Twenty Minutes Earlier**_

Emily and Reid were crouched under a table in the corner of Angelo's Delicatessen. They had just slipped their service weapons from their holsters and were trying to assess the situation before they took any action.

Leaning over, Reid pressed his lips to Emily's ear, "look at the younger one. He doesn't want to be here. Maybe we can work an angle with him?"

Emily agreed with Spencer's assessment on the kid, he barely looked old enough to shave, and he definitely wanted to be anywhere but here. But then her eyes hardened as they switched to his partner.

They wouldn't be able to work any angles with him.

The kid was filthy, strung out and looked like he was coming down from a three day high. He wanted money because he wanted drugs, and that was all he wanted. He had no other needs, no other considerations. And he had come here to rob the place, and then he most likely would have left immediately to go stick a needle in his arm.

Unfortunately though, the owner had decided rather than just handing over the cash, he was going to pull out the .32 he kept under the counter. And now they now had a Mexican standoff going. Both of them had their fingers on the trigger, and neither knew which one could pull it faster.

The druggie shoved the sawed off shotgun into the owner's face.

"JUST GIVE ME THE MONEY OR I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF OLD MAN!"

Emily was amazed the kid had enough self preservation left to know that the other man was even a threat to him. Usually when they were that far gone they couldn't even process the complexities of a situation. But she theorized that this wasn't the first time he'd had a gun pointed at his head. The instinct for self preservation that kicks in at that moment was probably a muscle memory. Even though he was slowly killing himself, he still didn't _want_ to die.

Grabbing Reid's arm Emily whispered back, "there's no negotiating with him," she jerked her head, "he's about to pull that trigger."

Reid craned his neck. Staring for a moment, trying to see what she saw.

She was right . . . he was way too twitchy. This was about to become a tragedy. He nodded his agreement to her assessment, and then waited for instructions. She would take the lead on next steps. Emily was the senior agent, and she had far more field experience. He watched as she pointed to her chest and then made a subtle gesture back to the counter . . . she'd take the big one.

He tipped his head in understanding . . . he was taking the younger kid.

Swallowing over the lump in his throat, he looked over again. Another kid holding another gun. And this time he wasn't going after him unarmed. This time there were too many lives on the line. No matter what happened in the coming minutes, he had to remember, these innocent people around them were what mattered.

Just before they separated Emily winked at him and he smiled back nervously. She always looked after him. The smile slowly faded though as he watched her begin crawling under the tables. His eyes flicked back to the counter. Once he'd confirmed that her movement hadn't drawn the gunmen's attention, Reid started slowly working to the other side of the room.

As Emily slithered around the carpet she was scanning the other patrons cowering under their tables, watching for any potential problems.

Middle aged couple, heads down. Good.

Two terrified teenage girls, they were crying but they were quiet. As long as they didn't start screaming they wouldn't be an issue.

Under the next table there was a man and woman with two small frightened children. A family.

The parents were shielding the children with their bodies. Emily caught the father's eye, opening her jacket so he could see her badge. Then she looked at his little boy, he had dark hair, and for a moment Emily flashed on Jack, and she felt a paralyzing stab of pain in her gut. But she quickly shook the image away and looked back to the father, covering her eyes before gesturing to the boy. The father's eyes widened in terror, but then he nodded. He understood.

Things were about to happen that his child should not see.

He put his hand down and gestured for his wife to do the same for their daughter.

As the woman's trembling hand came down to shield her daughter's eyes, Emily turned away. Trying to put the family out of her mind. If she didn't get distracted then she would do her job correctly and that nice family would all be going home together. That was the end game here.

All these nice people going home tonight with no missing limbs and no missing family members.

The only potential issues they had with the patrons, the only potential issues that she could see anyway, were two Marines in fatigues. Given their body language, and the looks on their faces, she was sure they'd seen action. There was no fear coming off them, only anger. An emotion she understood, she was fairly pissed off herself right now. All they were trying to do was pick up some freaking dinner! And she and Spencer get taken hostage, AGAIN!

God had a seriously messed up sense of humor.

But at least this time they had their weapons, and there were only two gunmen instead of two dozen. This one didn't have to be a minimal loss. This time she was fairly confident she could get everyone out alive. Her only worry, the only potential glitch, was that the Marines would try to rush the gunmen. She wouldn't have minded the help, not if they were seasoned. But they weren't armed, and therefore were simply more potential casualties at this point. Reid was closest to them though, and it appeared he was getting their point across. They looked from Spencer to Emily, she stared down the one with the stripes and after a moment he reluctantly nodded.

Okay, she felt a slight lessening of the vice on her chest. Okay, they were in control of the patrons. Innocent bystanders were often the variables that caused the best laid plans to fall apart. Now they just had to get control of the rest of the situation.

It felt like time was moving slowly but Emily knew less than a minute had passed since she and Spencer had broken apart. It was fortunate Reid had to stop for the bathroom or they would have been down by the main aisle and too close to do anything without immediately drawing attention to themselves. This way, they had the advantage of surprise. She caught Spencer's eye as they both slid into position by the corner of a booth on opposite sides of the shop. It would provide a little cover. Though she seriously wished she had her vest right now. No matter. Things to do. She worked herself up into a crouch and saw Reid doing the same. Looking over to him they counted down silently.

1 . . . 2 . . . 3

And they both leapt up, already at a run before Emily opened her mouth.

"FBI! WEAPONS ON THE GROUND NOW!"

///////////////////////

With lights flashing and sirens blaring Hotch was speeding out of the parking structure and down the busy downtown streets. Morgan turned on the scanner and Hotch heard the words that made his blood run cold.

"Shots fired! I repeat shots fired from inside!"

Terrified, Morgan looked over at him.

"Hotch?"

Hotch wouldn't look at Derek's face, he knew the fear there would just exacerbate his own. He just said, "I know Morgan, I know," and put his foot down a little harder on the gas. He was already doing 50 mph in a 30 mph zone. Fortunately they were traveling less than five miles or he would have been more concerned about his very unsafe speed. As it was they'd almost had a serious collision at the last intersection.

They only went out to pick up dinner! How do they get taken hostage picking up dinner? And what are the odds it would be the two of them . . . AGAIN? How unlucky can they be? This time they were armed though. And Emily would take point. He knew that without a doubt that Emily was in charge, and that actually made him feel a little better. Not a lot better, but a little. Emily Prentiss could take care of herself.

And Spencer, Hotch was still working with him at the range, but Reid had breezed right through his qualifiers last month so Hotch knew he was in good shape to back her up. He just wished they had their damn vests. And unfortunately Hotch didn't know if they were up against one gunman or four. He had been told the 911 call had been unclear. Just that there was a holdup at the deli and that there were a male and female FBI agent inside. The caller had been hiding under a table and then snapped his phone shut as somebody shushed him. When the police arrived they'd run the government tags, called the bureau and had been patched through to Hotch when the desk officer had figured out by the plates which unit's agents were inside.

Dave started pounding his hand on Hotch's seat, "THERE! Over there!" Hotch turned his head, seeing the yellow tape of the police perimeter. It was pulled back to the edge of the parking lot. Hotch swerved to the side, throwing the car in park, still half in the street. Didn't matter, the road was blocked ahead anyway. The three men jumped out, and then pulled their badges in almost the same movement as Hotch approached the patrolman guarding the corner of the lot.

"FBI, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I believe two of my agents are . . ."

And he stopped. There she was standing by the cruiser. Oh, thank you God! Completely ignoring the yells of the officer he'd just been speaking to, he pulled up the tape, ducking under it and running towards her.

The officer went to grab his arm, but fortunately Dave had also seen Emily and quickly finished explaining to the young officer what Hotch, in his haste to get to her, had not.

That was his agent and he was here to collect her.

Hotch jogged across the parking lot to the cruiser where Emily was standing. And as he got closer he saw Reid step out from next to a uniformed officer. Thank God, they were both okay.

"Prentiss! Reid!"

Turning, Emily saw Hotch hurrying towards them. She gave him a tired smile as he came up. She didn't know what he'd been told, but if he was here she knew he'd probably had just enough information to be worried sick. And as exhausted as she was, she was trying to reassure him they were okay.

He started to reach out to hug her then remembered where they were and stopped himself. It wouldn't do. He looked back and forth between the two of them as he asked worriedly, "are you both all right?"

As one they answered with a tip of their heads, "yes sir."

Dave and Morgan ran up just in time to hear the question and the answer and all three men finally let out the breath they'd been holding for the past fifteen minutes.

Slowly exhaling, Hotch looked back at Emily, "what happened?"

Emily quickly ran down the events that had transpired inside. Reid's fortuitous trip the bathroom, the gunmen bursting in, their decision to intercede after the owner pulled his gun, and then finally, the actual take down. As she'd charged from her position by the booth, she'd caught the attention of all parties down front. She'd winged the larger of the perps as he started to turn towards her. He'd gone flying backwards but he hadn't fallen, and he hadn't lost the shotgun. He'd started to turn it back towards her but suddenly one of the marines, Corporal Ramirez, tackled him from the side, knocking it from his hand, and then two seconds later Emily had her foot on the shotgun and her sig in his face.

Reid had an easier time of it. The kid had dropped his weapon as soon as he'd pointed his revolver at him. Then the second Marine, Sergeant Polaski, came from the other direction, knocking the kid to the ground. He had him trussed up with a tablecloth before Reid even got over with the cuffs.

Though they'd asked the two men to let them handle things alone, both Emily and Spencer said they really couldn't have been more grateful for the help of the soldiers. They had helped them resolve the situation with minimal bloodshed.

Hotch was pretty grateful to them too. And he'd like to shake the hand of the one who knocked the shotgun out of Emily's face. Even if she'd had her vest she could have been killed. Without it, there's no doubt the blast would have been fatal. He shook his head, he didn't want to think about that. He focused in on her state of mind now.

Outwardly she appeared to be her usual calm, collected, professional self. But he could read her better than that, better than anyone else. And he could tell, she was about to hit the wall. So all he was looking to do was get her the hell out of there before that happened. Someone shoves a shotgun in your face, it's understandable that once the adrenaline wears off you're composure is going to get shot to hell. But she'd be so embarrassed if anyone at the scene saw her upset.

He caught her eyes, "I'm going to go find out if you two are cleared to leave." She nodded, holding his gaze a second too long and he wanted to just take her out right then. But there were procedures, and unfortunately, he wasn't in charge here. So he just discretely squeezed her fingers as he walked passed her to find the detective in charge. Hoping she'd understand . . . soon.

//////

When Hotch tracked down the detective, to his relief he found out that Emily and Reid had already given their official statements and Emily had turned over her pistol. The detective promised Hotch he'd have it back to her by tomorrow night. And he also told him that every witness statement they'd taken had backed up the agents reports of how the shooting had gone down. And as far as the detective was concerned it was a clean shoot and he was just amazed given the circumstances that the agents had gotten everyone out alive.

As Hotch listened to the detective's praise he felt the same swell of pride he always did when somebody else noticed what he already knew.

His people were extraordinary.

He nodded his thanks, and added his card to the two the detective had already collected from Emily and Spencer, telling him to call if he needed anything else from them. Hotch started back over to his team, but as he looked at the group he noticed that Emily was missing.

His eyes scanned the crowd, and that's when he saw that she had stepped off to the side and was having a private conversation with a man in fatigues. Hotch stopped, looking him over. It had to be one of the Marines from inside the restaurant. He was in his early thirties and definitely interested in his agent if Hotch was any read of behavior, which he was.

He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. He was sure that men talked to Emily on a regular basis. Or at least he assumed they did, she was very attractive, but they definitely didn't do it around him. Not that he had any claim to her, but other men tended to give her a wide berth when he was near her. Emily had joked about it once when they were in a bar, and he apologized for 'cramping her style.' She had rolled her eyes and said her 'style' usually included men with neck tattoos wanting to 'party' so she really should be thanking him.

And after that he didn't worry about it so much. But this guy who was talking to her now definitely didn't have any neck tattoos. As her supervisor he had every right to walk up. But as her friend, well, he didn't want to be a jerk. Half of the men she met were serial killers and rapists. If she actually just met a nice guy, she might get kind of pissed off if he scared him away too.

But then he saw her look up, seeking him out, and when she caught his eyes, she gave him a big smile and waved him over.

Okay, first question answered.

Hotch walked over giving a polite nod to her new friend. He was being careful not to stand too close to her, trying not to give the wrong impression, but then she reached over and took his arm. Okay, second question answered. She did not wish to pursue a personal relationship with the sergeant and had apparently decided he was her deflection.

He wasn't 100% comfortable doing this while they were on duty but he figured just a bit of subtle body language should be sufficient to make the point she wanted made. So Hotch shifted a little closer into her space as Emily introduced the two men.

"Hotch, this is Sergeant Polaski. He's the one I was telling you about. He helped Reid apprehend the perpetrator inside." She turned back to Polaski, "Sergeant, as I was just saying, this is our unit chief, Aaron Hotchner."

The two men shook hands, the sergeant squeezing a little tighter than was necessary for a polite hello, and Hotch felt a ghost of a smile touch his lips. He wanted to tell him to save his energy. Emily already decided she doesn't want anything to do with you. But he didn't say that, this man and his friend had gone above and beyond inside the deli, and he certainly wouldn't be rude to him now. He tipped his head to him.

"Sergeant, thank you so much for your assistance to my agents. From everything Agent Prentiss has told me, it's clear that your help made it possible for them to take control of the situation faster than they would have alone." He gave him a pointed nod, "and please do thank Corporal Ramirez for me. I heard what he did deflecting the shotgun and," he shifted his eyes over to Emily, "I'm more grateful than you could know." He pulled out one of his cards, passing it over to Polaski, "please don't hesitate to call if either of you ever needed anything." He felt Emily put her hand back on his bicep and then she smiled politely.

"Yes, Sergeant, thanks again for all your help, and please do call Hotch if you need anything."

A statement Hotch saw was clearly code for, 'don't call me.'

The sergeant seemed to have taken the hint as well. And he was a gracious loser.

"Well, we're just happy we were able to help. It was nice meeting you both," he tipped his head to Hotch, "sir," and then he turned to Emily as he quirked up his lip, "again, nice shooting Agent Prentiss." And then Hotch watched him walk off towards an SUV on the other side of the lot. Once he was out of earshot Hotch turned to Emily with a raised eyebrow as he said drolly.

"It certainly isn't at all awkward playing your boyfriend when we're on duty."

Rubbing her hands down her face Emily sighed, "I know. I know. I'm sorry that wasn't fair to do that to you. But he was really pushing for my number and, well," shaking her head she looked up at him, "I just didn't want to give it to him," she frowned, "but he seemed really nice and he was such a good guy helping us out inside, I just didn't want to hurt his feelings," she shrugged, "I thought the 'sorry I'm already taken' would be the gentlest brush-off I could give."

She knew pretending to be dating her boss didn't exactly project the most professional image. But under the circumstances it seemed the lesser of the evils.

Narrowing his eyes Hotch looked down at her. This was odd. Why didn't she want to give him her number? Objectively speaking Hotch could say the man was not unattractive. He was also a Marine. He knew from an overheard conversation between JJ and Emily that both of them were 'fond' of men in uniform. And this particular man in uniform was by her own estimation, 'nice.'

Plus, he'd assisted in the capture of a dangerous felon so he'd demonstrated bravery and good character. Hotch scrunched up his brow, so really, why wouldn't she want to go out with him? He tipped his head to the side as he looked down questioningly.

"Why _didn't_ you give him your phone number? What was wrong with him?"

Emily blinked and looked up at him in confusion. She'd been staring at his hands, she always liked Hotch's fingers. As she saw him looking strangely at her, his question of a moment earlier finally permeated her brain.

'_What was wrong with him?' _

She shook her head, "nothing," her eyes dropped down to his hand again, "nothing was wrong with him." She stared at his fingers for a moment longer and then looked back up.

"Can we leave? I really want to get out of here."

Hotch looked at her and then down at his hand. What was she looking at? Then he decided it didn't matter, he'd been trying to get her out of here for the last fifteen minutes. He looked back up and nodded, "we can leave. I already spoke to the detective. He said you're all set and you should have your gun back tomorrow."

Rubbing her hand across her mouth, she gave him a tired nod, "good." She had a backup piece at home, she'd just carry that one until her sig was back.

He put his hand on her shoulder and they walked back over to the rest of the team. Morgan was congratulating Reid on his small bladder, telling him it had probably saved lives. Hotch's eyes crinkled as he listened to Derek express his affection for Reid in the only way he knew how. As much as he teased him, Hotch knew Morgan would be devastated if anything ever happened to Spencer. He cleared his throat.

"Well, needless to say we're done working for tonight," he looked over to Rossi, "Dave, are you three okay getting back in the SUV that Prentiss and Reid came in?"

Rossi nodded, "of course, I just need keys." Emily pulled them out of her pocket and tossed them over as Hotch continued talking.

"I'm going to drop Prentiss off at her place," he looked over to Reid, "good work tonight Spencer." He held his gaze for a moment, both of them remembering the last teenage boy with a gun and their subsequent conversation on the plane. Lessons had been learned.

Spencer felt his face getting a little warm as he nodded back, "thanks Hotch." Then he turned to Emily to say goodbye and she stepped over and hugged him, squeezing him tightly.

"You can be my wingman anytime."

She heard Reid huff, and her eyes crinkled. And as she leaned back he grinned at her, "bullshit, you can be mine."

Emily laughed and patted his cheek. She was always so proud when he made a non Star Trek pop culture reference. Top Gun filled the bill nicely.

Morgan and Rossi both rolled their eyes good naturedly, and even Hotch felt his lip quirk up slightly. It was almost impossible to resist the Prentiss/Reid double billing. Hotch sobered as he realized that once again he could have lost both of them at the same time. The more time that passed with them as a family, the harder it was to comprehend losing any of them.

Leaning over he squeezed Reid's shoulder tightly, "you have a good night Spencer."

Biting his lip Reid looked back at him, "you too Hotch." He was glad that this time he hadn't let him down.

Emily made her goodbyes to the others and then looked up at Hotch.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Hotch put his hand back on her shoulder and starting walking her to the SUV parked out on the street. The further they got away from the team the further his hand slid around her back until he had his arm around her completely as they ducked under the tape. He could feel her starting to shake and he bypassed the vehicle to continue walking into the bank parking lot next door. There were trees lining the edge of the lot and Hotch walked them over to one and pulled her against his chest as she started to cry.

A few more minutes back there and she might have lost it at the scene. Thank God for small favors. He rubbed her back until she was ready to talk. Finally she took a breath, "there was a little boy in there the same age as Jack," she hiccupped, "and that's what I was thinking when I saw his father shielding him, God what if that was Jack. And I shoved the thought out of my mind so I could do my job but once we were out . . ." she got quiet for a moment and then shook her head, "I'm sorry for crying, I know it's really unprofessional, but it just keeps hitting me again like a brick in the face."

It certainly wasn't the first time Hotch had seen her cry, but she did NOT cry on duty. Ever. And she was embarrassed this had happened now. Christ, she'd barely cleared the yellow tape.

Biting his lip, Hotch pulled back slightly so he could see her face, "Emily you never have to apologize for caring about my son, okay?"

Sniffling, she wiped her hands across her face and nodded, "okay."

He put his arm around her and started walking them back towards the SUV. He tipped his head down, "you know that because of him I have my own issues with cases involving children, so I completely understand your reaction. If I was in there it would have been a distraction for me too." He was quiet for a second and then his eyes crinkled, "and as for the crying on duty, you know Morgan is in on my shoulder at least once a week."

And as he had hoped, she immediately started to laugh at the mental image of Morgan weeping in his arms. She slid her hand under his jacket and around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

"Thanks Hotch." No matter the circumstance, he always made her feel better.

He kissed the top of her head, "anytime Prentiss."

They both looked up as they heard, "good night agents."

It was Sergeant Polaski driving by with Corporal Ramirez. Polaski waved and gave them a genuine smile. They waved back and yelled good night. Then they looked at each other and Hotch's mouth twitched as Emily laughed aloud.

"Well, thanks to my blubbering he is now _definitely_ convinced we're a couple."

Hotch hit the button for the door locks as he responded drolly.

"Yes, I'd say that's a fair assessment. I guess it was a good thing you didn't give him your number. He would have assumed you were cheating on me."

Emily barked a laugh as she pulled her door open.

"I'm just too much woman for one man, sir."

His lips twitched as he got in on the other side, "I think we'll keep that one our little secret Prentiss"

She looked over at him with a little smile, and suddenly he remembered that she had a shotgun in her face less than an hour ago. He felt his eyes sting and he reached over and squeezed her hand.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

Looking down at their joined fingers she took a breath and then nodded.

"Me too."

//////////

They drove back to Emily's and when she went into the bathroom to wash her face, he put on the kettle to make her tea. As the water started to boil he checked the time.

8:16

He scrunched his brow for a moment . . . no . . . it wasn't too late. He pulled out his cell phone.

As long as she was washing the dried tears off of her face Emily decided to scrub off her makeup too. After all, she wasn't trying to impress anyone. It was just Hotch here. When she came out of the bathroom he was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. There were two mugs on the coffee table and her eyes crinkled. He made her tea. She went over and sat down next him, pulling her feet up under her before reaching over to pick up her tea. As she put the cup back on the table her head tilted in curiosity as she realized he was talking to Jack. She looked down at her watch, it was past his bedtime. Then she felt Hotch squeeze her arm and she looked over at him and he stared at her as he spoke into the phone.

"Hey buddy, Miss Emily wants to say hi to you. Tell her about your new fire truck."

She saw the look on his face and her eyes began to burn as she realized that he had called his son, after his bedtime, just so that she could talk to him. Hotch handed her the phone with a little smile and she patted his cheek as she whispered, "thank you." He squeezed her hand, and as she put the phone to her ear she tipped her head onto his shoulder.

"Hi sweetie! Daddy said you got a new fire truck."

As Jack's happy little voice came on the line, she felt Hotch lean over and rest his head against hers, and she smiled.

Maybe God gave her a good day after all.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I've been working on this damn chapter for two months. Seriously. It was one of the first AU ideas that came to me after I wrote the Minimal Loss chapter. And I did that one probably while I was still posting season two. But as much as I liked the idea of it, I just couldn't this one right. I actually just wrote the last bit tonight, because I hadn't decided how to end it before. Basically the whole thing's been written in bits and pieces. Hopefully though, it finally came together in the end. _

_I'm trying to keep moving threads forward from the show. I've probably said before that it's frustrating when storylines kind of disappear and there's no growth shown in the characters. This time I let the two of them get taken hostage and I let them handle it differently. This time Reid had to confront a kid with a gun and this time he handled it differently. That's the kind of stuff I wish we'd get a bit more of on the show. Just showing some acknowledgement of the lessons learned from earlier incidents. I also have a big story arc coming up for November involving Derek. I was just saying to Arc, I wish I had the time to focus in on the other characters more. But it's a story about two people falling in love, it's not a story about the_ _lives of the BAU. And sadly I just don't have the time to devote to in depth character analysis on everyone. That said, where possible I am trying to hit some points. _

_Speaking of trying to give some character analysis besides H/P, JJ has a nice juicy chapter coming up next when she and Em go dress shopping._

_Also, it's probably obvious in here, with Emily's resistance to dating someone who could actually be a nice guy, and Hotch waking up Jack just so she could talk to him, that subliminally their feelings for one another are deepening. Though consciously they're still going along as they have been before. And I very purposely didn't have Hotch stop and think about the implications of what it would mean for their relationship if Emily actually DID meet a nice guy and started dating him. I will address that later though._

_Next: "__**Hookers, Whales & Princess Leia**__"_


	83. Hookers, Whales & Princess Leia

**Author's Note**: And now, pretty party dress shopping.

I'm not actually using a 2008 calendar for this but let's assume the party's about a week away. I think it's going to be on the upcoming Friday.

* * *

_Mid September: Sunday_

**Hookers, Whales & Princess Leia**

"What do you think?"

JJ looked up at Emily and wrinkled her nose.

"It's a little . . ."

She stopped, trying to think of a polite word, but then Emily cut into her thoughts.

"Skanky?"

Emily knew her boobs were pushed almost up to her chin. Not to mention they were spilling out all over the place! And the slit was way higher than it looked on the hangar. She'd be pulling a Sharon Stone every time she crossed her legs. Well, she was planning on wearing underwear, but still, not a classy look.

Lips twitching, JJ nodded, "yeah, that's what I was thinking."

Emily was never much for beating around the bush.

With a sigh, Emily turned to go back in the dressing room, calling over the little door, "yeah, if you'll recall this was the one the salesgirl suggested. I thought it looked a little suspect on the hangar, but she said it'd be different on. And given that she's like eighteen I can see how she would have thought this was appropriate."

Her head popped over the door, "I think she thought I needed something for prom."

JJ giggled as she settled back on the little sofa . . . yeah, it really did look like something kids wore to prom. When it became popular to dress slutty she didn't know. But . . . she rolled her eyes . . . styles did change and she was getting old. She just remembered her prom dress was a polyester nightmare with a huge green bow on it and big puffy sleeves. She looked like a green marshmallow, nothing sexy about it.

And thinking back now on how hideous it was, JJ was amazed her date even left the house with her!

As she waited for Emily to appear in her next frock JJ ran her hand along the fabric of the couch. It was nicer than the one she had at home! That was one of the benefits of fancy dress shopping in a nice store, you actually had a place to sit down in the dressing area.

Usually you're just leaning against the wall holding all the coats and purses.

She'd been delighted when Emily had asked if she wanted to go dress shopping with her this Sunday. They never hung out anymore. It was just so much harder these days. JJ had Will, and given how much they both worked, they really only got to see each other on the weekends. So unless he joined the whole team out for a beer . . . she patted her belly . . . or a diet coke, she never really saw Em much outside the office now. And when they were at the office, Em usually spent her lunch hours with Hotch. So it's not even like she and JJ could do that together.

But . . . JJ sighed as she thought about it . . . lunch wasn't really an option anyway. Putting in a full day was getting harder and harder for her and she had started using her lunch hour to take little naps. Even if Em was free it's not like she would have been much company to her.

_'Hey want to come watch me sleep on the little foldout cot that Hotch requisitioned for me without me asking?'_

She rolled her eyes . . . yeah, that sounds like a blast. Then her expression softened as she thought about Hotch. He got her the cot after he came back from lunch and found her sleeping on her desk. After that he started making her take more breaks than she would otherwise. And when they were on the road he kept her in a steady supply of fresh fruits for snacks. She wasn't quite sure how he managed it but he said he didn't want her eating all that crap the rest of them ate out of the vending machines. He'd been really great during her whole pregnancy.

Well . . . she rolled her eyes internally . . . since she'd told him about it.

She'd felt awful when she'd seen how hurt he was that she'd kept it from him as long as she had. But she'd done that with the best intentions. He'd been going through such an awful time with the divorce it had seemed cruel to shove it in his face. '_Hey look I'm having a kid and yours just got ripped away from you.' _

Yeah, that would have been great.

It's just so hard to share happy news when the other person's life is falling apart. In retrospect she did wish she'd handled it differently though. He shouldn't have found out that way.

But . . . she sighed . . . that was all in the past. And he definitely seemed happier and more relaxed now than he was back then.

Her lip quirked up as she looked over at the changing room door. . . . that was Emily's influence. She made him take breaks during the day, she made him leave before midnight, and JJ had noticed recently that she even could make him smile. Just little ones, and usually when he thought nobody was looking. But still, that was huge because Hotch hardly ever smiled before. Sometimes if they were off the clock, but mostly . . . JJ's eyes stung as she thought back . . . he just always seemed so sad. And he was such a sweet guy and he'd always been so good to her, it had bothered her to see him so unhappy.

But it was impossible to be unhappy around Emily. She was cheerful and good natured and always quick to crack a joke. JJ had been so pleased to see them becoming friends, she knew Em would be good for him. And JJ knew that all they were was friends.

Neither was the type to start up an interoffice romance.

Not to mention, if they were involved they certainly wouldn't be so obvious about the time they spent together. She looked up as the changing room door opened again. Her eyes immediately filled with tears when she saw Emily in front of her.

"Oooh!" She bit her lip, "you look so pretty!"

JJ quickly wiped the corner of her eye . . . stupid hormones. But really Em did look amazing.

Emily ran her hands down the shimmering blue silk, "you think this is the one?"

Personally she thought it looked the best of all of them. And she wasn't just saying that because she was sick of trying stuff on. She didn't mind shopping but she did hate trying on clothes. Your hair got all messed up, the tags poked you, and you're hopping around on one foot in a two foot by two foot cell.

It was really a complete pain in the ass.

That said, you couldn't purchase a formal evening gown without seeing what it looked like before you left the store. So she and JJ had gone around Nordstrom's and picked out eight maybes. Emily's arm was practically broken lugging them, but she said if she was stripping down to her skivvies she was only doing it the one time.

Now this was dress number six. Strapless, crossed over bodice in a flowy royal blue iridescent silk. It was quite beautiful actually. She was just glad that JJ agreed she looked good in it. The last one made her look like a hooker. And the one before that smooshed her boobs down practically to her waist.

That was a look she was hoping to avoid for another twenty-five or thirty years.

JJ smiled, "yeah definitely." Then her smile changed to a smirk, "your date will be ripping it off you when you get home."

Stunned, Emily looked at her for a second and then snorted, "um, I hope not. I'm going with Hotch." She wrinkled her brow, "did I not tell you that?"

Then she realized she probably hadn't told her that because she'd asked JJ to go shopping with her when they were coming home on the jet last week. And as she flashed back on that moment she remembered Hotch had been sitting next to her and he had fallen asleep on her shoulder. And with him in that position she couldn't very well announce in front of the whole team that the reason she needed a new party dress was to go on a 'date' with Hotch.

Incorrect inferences/insinuations/assumptions most definitely would have been made.

Not that she was necessarily _hiding_ the fact that she was going to the gala with Hotch, but she wasn't advertising it either. They never talked about the things they did outside the office.

Casually in conversation they might mention that they were getting dinner or had seen a movie, but the team had no idea they hung out on the weekends. Or that she knew Jack. She and Hotch knew their relationship was perfectly innocent. But she could see, given how MUCH time they now spent together, and the fact that she was the only one of them that had been introduced to his son, that the others might start making assumptions. Even if they were just joking around assumptions, she didn't need that.

Neither of them did.

JJ's face scrunched up as her head tilted to the side, "uh, _no_ you didn't tell me that!" She shook her head in disbelief, "so wait, you're spending like four hundred dollars on a new dress to go out with HOTCH?!" Crossing her arms at her chest, she smirked, "something you want to tell me Em?"

Okay, maybe friends _wasn't_ all they were.

Annoyed at the insinuation . . . the insinuation that she'd been trying to avoid anyone making . . . Emily's eyes narrowed as she stared at her friend. Then she decided she didn't want to get pissy about this. She could see where JJ would get the wrong idea, so she tried to push her annoyance aside as she shook her head.

"There's nothing going on between us. He was ordered to attend this function and he needed a date. And I haven't gotten dressed up in forever and I wanted to get something new," her gaze dropped down as she tried to change the subject back to fashion, "and I know it's probably a little pricey, but I can wear it again. It won't go out of style."

Though she wasn't sure exactly when she'd wear it again. She rarely went to galas, balls or anything else that required a black tie. As much as she'd hated them growing up, now that she was older she thought it was kind of fun to play dress up occasionally. Just given how practical all her work clothes had to be, and the fact that she did work like ALL the time, she didn't even really get to wear skirts anymore.

Hmm, and she had a bunch of cute sundresses too. She kept buying them and they kept sitting in her closet. Maybe she could start wearing them on the weekends. Her eyes crinkled . . . though she might have to buy some bike shorts to wear underneath them. She couldn't see doing summersaults with Jack otherwise.

JJ stared at her suspiciously for a moment. Trying to decide if she was just deflecting or if there really wasn't anything to tell. And then her expression softened as she realized, either way . . . it wasn't any of her business.

If Emily and Hotch were seeing each other romantically then they were under no obligation to discuss it with the rest of them. Though she knew the others might see it differently. Morgan especially might take issue. He was very protective of Emily, he took issue with most of the men she dated.

Though in Morgan's defense, most of the men Em dated were losers. And as she thought about the others she knew Garcia could be a little bit gossipy. Which was usually fun, because they were pretty well piped into every, 'who's sleeping with who' relationship in the Bureau. But that wasn't so much fun if you were the subject of the gossip.

Though JJ knew Pen would never talk about the team members OUTSIDE the team, she wouldn't hesitate to talk to other people INSIDE the team if it was something juicy. And Hotch and Emily sleeping together would DEFINITELY be juicy!

JJ rubbed her hand across her stomach . . . but she had personal experience trying to juggle a private relationship and she was sympathetic if that's what they were doing too.

Though . . . she looked at the little crease of irritation in Em's brow . . . maybe she was completely reading things that weren't there. But again . . . she gave a little internal eye roll . . . it wasn't her business to ask or speculate. She didn't want Emily to get annoyed with her. They were having a nice day and she didn't want to ruin it. They'd been out for two hours and she wasn't even tired yet. That was like a miracle! So she quickly made amends for her insinuation before it caused a strain.

Looking up, JJ wrinkled her nose apologetically, "sorry, I was just being nosy. That's nice you're helping him out. "

Then she quickly changed the subject to something less personal, "and you're right that dress definitely won't go out of style." Patting her baby bump, she gave Emily a self deprecating smile, "though if you ever get as big as a whale it would be a little harder to fit into it."

Emily looked at JJ for a moment before giving her a sad smile and going over to rub her belly affectionately, "you're beautiful."

As she leaned back her eyes began to get moist, "next month my clock's going to start ticking quite loudly. And I always wanted to have a family but I don't really have any prospects for a baby daddy."

She stared at her friend's pregnant belly for a moment before she said softly.

"You make me envious."

JJ's eyes started to fill up with tears again . . . poor Emily. She hadn't thought about it like that before. Em was ten years older than JJ. She only had a few more years left if she wanted to settle down and have a family. It wasn't like with guys, Morgan could screw around for another decade, and Rossi already had three wives and she knew he was looking for a fourth.

But women's eggs had an expiration date and it got harder to get pregnant as you got older. And in five or six years it would be too dangerous for Emily to even _try_ to get pregnant. JJ's face fell, that just sucked. Because with work, and Emily's God awful taste in men, she didn't see how she was going to find somebody right now.

Frowning, JJ tried to push herself up off the couch to go give her friend a hug. But of course . . . she couldn't get off the cushion. So she huffed and then rolled over to the side and pushed herself up with her hands. And as she turned to face Emily, she saw her friend's mouth was quivering. And then Emily started to giggle, "though you do also make a solid argument for celibacy."

Lips twitching, JJ stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing.

"The bathtub is the worst! I have to call Will in to haul me out every time," she started to laugh harder and tears began rolling down her face, "and then two weeks ago, he says, 'baby I've had less trouble hookin' marlins.'"

Holding her stomach, Emily doubled over cracking up, "OH MY GOD! HE DID** NOT** SAY THAT!?"

JJ started wiping her eyes as she giggled, "yeah, poor thing. I'd accidentally put in some bath stuff that had oils in it," she snorted, "I was all slippery." She shook her head affectionately, "I couldn't even get mad at him. If you'd only seen the look on his face when he realized he'd said it out loud."

Emily snorted, "yeah, I can imagine. Last Saturday Hotch told me I looked like Princess Leia. I was trying this new bun thing I saw in magazine. I did it wrong," she rolled her eyes, "and he was right, it was _not_ a good look." Her eyes dropped to the floor as she smiled softly, "though the expression on his face was hilarious. I think he thought I was going to punch him. I just made him buy me an ice cream," huffing she looked back up at JJ, "of course that was after I made him help me take all the bobby pins out of my hair."

Her eyes crinkled as she thought back . . . he'd tucked her hair back behind her ears and told her she looked much prettier with it down. Then he winked and said he did like the pigtails though. Her lip quirked up . . . he was funny. Then she saw JJ giving her a strange look and Emily tilted her head quizzically.

"What?"

Shaking her head, JJ gave her a little smile, "nothing, I was just picturing you with Princess Leia buns," she wrinkled her nose, "I have to agree with Hotch, it doesn't sound like a good look for you."

It was a lie. That wasn't what JJ was thinking about. But she knew it was a plausible lie, and Emily didn't question it, she just gave her a self deprecating smile, "no, no it wasn't." Then she sighed as she looked back down at her dress, "okay, well let me just get dressed, we can go ring this up, and then we can go to lunch."

JJ nodded, "sounds good."

She watched the little door swing shut and her eyes crinkled as she pictured the look on Emily's face as she was talking about Hotch. Not to mention that she'd countered JJ's Will story with one about their boss.

Sighing, JJ went over to lean against the wall.

Well, they might not be involved now, but clearly they were _much_ closer than any of them had realized. That was good though, JJ had felt kind of guilty for neglecting Emily these past few months. It was just always so hard when one friend fell into a steady relationship and the other one was still single. But that was nice that she had Hotch to hang out with, nice for both of them actually. That Princess Leia story, she said that happened on a Saturday.

So that means they hung out on the weekends . . . JJ's brow wrinkled . . . and that's when Hotch had visitation.

Huh.

Now she wondered if Emily knew Hotch's son. Then JJ tipped her head . . . well, again, that fell under the category of things that weren't her business to know. Either way, at least they weren't alone.

Emily carefully slipped the dress off and hung it back on the hangar. Pursing her lips she stared at it for a moment. Her eyebrows went up in alarm as she checked the price tag . . . whoa! $425.00! That was kind of a lot of money to spend on a dress if she could only wear it once.

As she stared at it her brow began to furrow . . . where would she wear this again? She tipped her head . . . well, she could always crash one of those open embassy parties.

Oh man . . . she started to get excited . . . she should start doing that anyway! They had free food! And it was all the good stuff. There were a couple of perks that she missed about the diplomatic life. And fabulous international cuisine was one of them. So yeah, that would be really cool. She should start checking the websites to see who was holding functions when. Lots of them were open invitation.

Her eyes crinkled as she slid her bra strap over her shoulder.

Playing dress up every couple months sounds like fun. It would certainly be a nice distraction from the horrors of work. Then her face fell as she thought about work and realized she didn't have a girlfriend to crash parties with anymore. That would have been a thing to do with JJ. And as she thought about her friend's pregnant belly she knew that party crashing wasn't really on the list of activities they could do together at the moment. And in a couple months she was going to have a baby. She was going to be somebody's mom.

And moms really don't go party crashing at all.

Sighing she picked up her tank top and slipped it back over her head. Well, it looks like the embassy thing is a no go. She pouted, that sucks. Then she looked at the dress again, she really wanted to buy it. She thought about it . . . it's not like she had any expensive hobbies. She never went on vacation. And aside from a tendency to eat out a little too often, she was generally pretty frugal. She could afford it. And she _never_ blew that kind of money on clothes. All of her suits were off the rack and she only picked up new ones when there was a sale.

So with that she decided, she could splurge this one time. And who knows, maybe she'd get invited to some fancy Christmas party. Okay . . . she nodded to herself . . . there's her justification. UN gala and potential fancy Christmas ball.

Good enough.

But then as she was pulling on her jeans, her eyes lit up. She totally forgot that one of the perks of her best friend being a guy was that she had a default date for everything now. And that meant she could take Hotch to the embassy parties with her! It's not like she wanted to go to find a man. Who goes man shopping in a foreign country? Which is what an embassy was, a foreign country. So anybody you meet there was only on temporary assignment and they'd be shipping back to their native land eventually.

And she wasn't looking for any stupid fling. No, she was just looking to wear pretty clothes and eat free food. Given those were the full extent of her wants and desires, she'd probably have a better time if she had date anyway.

Well . . . she tipped her head . . . not that Hotch was a 'date' date. But he kept other men away. She snorted to herself . . . boy did Hotch keep other men away. But given her track record as a bum magnet, that was totally fine with her.

Men of weak moral character wouldn't step within three feet of her with Hotch's arm around her.

Though . . . she wrinkled her brow . . . even men that didn't suck weren't going to talk to her if she was holding hands with another guy.

Her brow furrowed as she gave that about two seconds thought and then rolled her eyes.

Eh, who cares. Prince Charming had the last thirty-nine years to show up with the glass slipper. If he hadn't turned up by now, odds are he wasn't going to. And she liked her relationship with Hotch just as it was. So she wasn't going to start messing with it on some stupid girly hope of meeting Mr. Right. If she had a soul mate, and she hoped that she did, then he would enter her life when he was supposed to. Her heart might have been kicked around the block a few times but she was still enough of a romantic to believe that was true.

And in the meantime . . . she picked up her pretty new dress with a soft smile . . . she had Hotch.

* * *

_A/N 2: Back in season 3 I had already covered from Emily's point of view the 'blink and you miss it' look of hurt that splashed on Hotch's face when he found out about JJ's pregnancy. And I wanted to give JJ the opportunity now to explain why she'd handled that the way she had. I thought that was a plausible reason. And if they'd shown that convo between her and Hotch I think it would have added a little more depth to their relationship. But again, that's what this story is for, fixing canon.  
_

_JJ's prom dress bears a striking resemblance to my prom dress :) It was shiny! And not in the good Firefly kind of way._

_Nordstrom's is a nicer department store chain that runs in certain parts of the States. And Em's dress, I told Arc, for all the little worlds I spin here, I couldn't just 'imagine' a pretty dress (it must be a different creative part of your brain) so I actually had to go to the Nordstrom's website to find one to describe. If you'd like to see the dress, that's my profile picture right now. I saved it to remind myself for the gala, and I'll leave it up on my site for a day or so. Picture it in royal blue though. Emily has this royal blue shirt she used to wear and I thought that was a really good color for her. Actually the dress would be gorgeous in blue. Hell, I love in it green, but that's not a good color for me :) Oh, and it costs $1100! So though Em is spending a ridiculous amount of money, she's still getting a major bargain at $425!_

_And the embassy stuff, that's true. Though I never tried to go to an actual ball so don't hold me to that one :) But there are a couple websites with calendars on events that are open to the public. Cultural exhibits, stuff like that. It's fun :)_

_And up next, finally, the blessed public indecency story! And if I can just tell you, for some reason I can't spell indecency. I've written the damn word like 12 times in the past month, and I do it wrong EVERY time! The people at Microsoft keep underlining it, mocking my ignorance, forcing me to add an "e" where I don't think it belongs. _

_Next: "__**Fight or Flight**__"_


	84. Fight or Flight

**Author's Note**: Public Indecency.

Unrelated, I updated the _Aaron & Emily_ story today.

* * *

_Late September: Tuesday_

**Fight or Flight**

"What are you doing?"

Hotch turned to face Emily, giving her a look of mock confusion.

"I'm sorry, do you NOT want to watch this show?"

Emily scowled at him, "you know damn well I don't want to watch this show," she elbowed him angrily, "change the channel!"

They were at his house watching television and waiting for their pizza. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing evening. But the 'nice' and 'relaxing' parts had just come to a screeching halt. Because for some inexplicable reason he had just changed the channel to a VH1 marathon of "_Paris Hilton's - The Simple Life_." He _knew_ she HATED Paris Hilton! What the hell was he doing?

Hotch's lips twitched as he watched her turning redder and redder . . . God she was angry.

It was really funny.

Over the weekend he'd seen a commercial for the "_Simple Life_" marathon and he had immediately hatched a plan. He'd been trying to get Emily to disclose the details of her public indecency incident since she'd accidentally blurted it out to him last month.

She'd held firm though. And she'd even gotten to JJ before he had.

When questioned, his sweet, usually loyal JJ, had just shaken her head and said, "sorry sir, we were off duty so I am not required to file a report on our activities." He'd rolled his eyes. That was the exact same thing Emily had said when he'd caught up with her that day in the quad.

That was over a month ago and he'd been trying to get the story from her ever since. He'd cajoled, guilted, bribed, nothing worked. Hell, he'd even offered an even exchange of one embarrassing story of his own. His curiosity was killing him, and he felt any transitory personal humiliation he suffered would be more than worth it to get the details of her story.

And she'd almost cracked on that one. But upon further questioning she'd discovered he couldn't exchange a story also involving "wrongful detention," so she ultimately had turned him down.

Wrongful detention.

That was the most he'd gotten out of her. And that had of course peaked his interest. He had to know the rest but, he couldn't break her. Until now. Because now, he was resorting to plain old fashioned torture. Paris Hilton.

Emily's nemesis.

He wasn't a fan himself but Emily's hatred of this person was legendary. And now there was a twelve hour marathon of her show being aired, and he had the remote. He saw Emily's jaw begin to twitch as the theme music came on and he knew she was about to blow.

"SERIOUSLY HOTCH! CUT THE SHIT! NOW CHANGE THE GOD DAMN CHANNEL"

And to punctuate her depth of feelings on this topic, she hauled off and punched him in the arm.

The punch actually kind of hurt, but Hotch of course didn't even flinch, he just shook his head.

"Nope. The channel stays until you tell me the public indecency story." He saw the scowl and his lip quirked up, "OR, there is an alternative if you'd like to hear it."

Raising her eyebrow, she asked suspiciously, "what's the alternative?"

It was going to be bad, she just knew it was going to be bad.

Dangling the remote just out of her reach, Hotch's lips twitched as he looked over at her, "in the alternative, you pin me. Then you will have earned full clicking rights and you can watch whatever you want."

That was the plan. It was perfect. Subject her to a Paris Hilton marathon, pin him, or she tells him the story. He knew she couldn't pin him, that wasn't even an option. Hell, Derek could barely pin him. He just threw it out there so it would look like he was giving her multiple options. And he knew she wouldn't just walk out. For one thing, he'd invited her over and they'd just ordered a pizza. Emily didn't leave pre-meal. And for another, only a poor loser would walk out in a huff. And Emily was NOT a poor loser.

Incredulous, Emily gaped at him, "**THOSE** ARE MY OPTIONS!?"

At his nod she grunted angrily and turned away, crossing her arms at her chest. There was no way she could pin him and he knew that. He outweighed her by fifty pounds and that was almost all muscle. Plus he was freaking Hotch! Nobody could pin Hotch. Except Derek, he'd done it once out of God knows how many match ups. But legend had it Hotch had the flu that day. Every other sparring match was a draw or Hotch won.

So if Derek couldn't take him how the hell was SHE supposed to?!

Then she snorted to herself . . . she really had to hand it to him. This was an excellent plan. Basically heads he wins, tails she loses. He knew she wouldn't leave. There was pizza coming. And he knew she couldn't pin him. So the only option left was telling him the damn story.

She had been outmaneuvered.

Emily bit her lip . . . but she REALLY didn't want to tell him that stupid story. It was _so_ embarrassing. _Beyond_ embarrassing! She'd sworn JJ to secrecy. She rolled her eyes, but this was all her own damn fault for slipping up and telling him as much as she did this summer. Given what he'd heard there was no way he was going to let it go. Hell, if their positions were reversed there's no way SHE would have let it go!

She let her eyes drift over to him . . . he was still smirking at her as he tapped his fingers on the remote.

Paris Hilton.

Of all the underhanded . . . she stuck her tongue out at him and turned away again.

Hotch poked her in the side and she jumped, "I can't BELIEVE you just stuck your tongue out at me! Even JACK doesn't stick his tongue out at anyone!" He started to laugh at her and she turned her head back in his direction, narrowing her eyebrows.

Screw it.

If she was going down, she was going down fighting.

Hotch saw the shift in her eyes and stopped laughing as he threw the remote behind the couch, catching her just as she landed on him. He immediately took her to the floor. In five seconds he was on top of her and in twelve seconds he had both of her arms pinned above her head. He knew he wasn't hurting her, but she couldn't move. He smirked, "ready to tell me the story?"

Lifting her head up off the ground she smirked back, "you ready to give Jack a baby brother? Because in case you haven't noticed, we're all lined up for lift off . . . daddy."

Horrified, Hotch immediately jumped back, as Emily knew he would. And it wasn't until he'd loosened his grip that he realized . . . he'd been played. If they'd been 'lined up' to make a baby brother for Jack he sure as hell would have noticed before SHE did! Men were quite in tune to those things. There was a proximity warning.

But at that point it was too late. As soon as he lost focus she bucked and flipped him over. Then HE was looking up at _her_.

Son of a BITCH! She'd flipped him!

And she was sitting on his stomach, grinning from ear to ear. "I did it! You didn't think I could! But I did!"

Crossing his arms behind his head he looked at her sadly, "it's a hollow victory Prentiss. You used deceitful tactics. That wasn't strategy or strength."

It's wasn't traditional strategy, so technically it didn't count. It's not like she could use that move in the field. Not to mention he could have flipped her again before she could even blink. But regardless, he was actually quite proud of her for besting him. He shouldn't have fallen for the distraction. But convincing her she was better than this was the last card he had in the deck. If he didn't play it he'd never hear the end of this one.

Not to mention Morgan and Rossi would have a field day if she told them she'd pinned him under _any_ circumstances. And God knows, technicality or not, she'd be telling everyone under the sun.

"But," she frowned, "deceit _was_ my strategy. That counts."

Didn't it? She thought it did.

Raising his eyebrow he looked up at her quizzically, "you think?" He could see he was getting to her, the frown was deepening. So he strategically looked away, "perhaps." He waited two beats and then flicked his eyes back over to hers, "but is that _really_ how you want to tell people this went down? The only way you could beat me was to lie about something like THAT," he scrunched up his face, "it's kind of a 'girly' way to win, don't you think? Are you proud of that story Prentiss?"

She pouted.

Well when he put it like that . . . no, she wasn't proud of that story. She didn't want to win the girly way. She wanted to tell the story where she kicked his ass. Not the one where she tricked him into letting her go. Damn it. Bastard. She scowled down at him.

"You _had_ to take away my moment of victory, didn't you?"

He vehemently shook his head, "I took nothing. I just laid out the facts of the situation and let you peruse them in a new light." He twisted his jaw, "and I'm just thinking that perhaps in this new light you might see the truth of the matter was that I had you dead to rights," he gave her a hard look, "and you weren't going anywhere."

She looked at him, saw the truth in his statement, and broke out the last weapon she had before utter defeat.

Wrinkling her brow in annoyance, she pouted at him, "_fine_, you win."

Scowling, he pulled one of the hands out from behind his head to point at her, "uh, uh, you DON'T get to _pout_ at me! That's emotional manipulation. You pull out the pout and you know I'll feel bad and tell you, _'no never mind Emily, it's okay.'_

Her mouth quivered at his rant and then she smirked, "saw that one coming, huh?"

They were spending entirely too much time together.

Lips twitching, Hotch stared at her for a second before grabbing her ankle, "I can't believe you attempted to play me AGAIN. You've lost fair and square TWICE now. You're going to tell me the story Prentiss or," he ran the tips of his fingers under her heel, "I employ a new warfare tactic."

Last weekend when she was playing with Jack the two of them got into a tickle fight. His son had pinned her as fast as he had tonight. Turns out, Emily is incredibly ticklish. Freakishly so. It was information he had stored away, having no idea it would come in handy so quickly. He felt her tense up.

Ha! Gotcha.

It took every bit of Emily's self control not to bolt off of Hotch when he started to run the tip of his index finger along the length of her foot. Damn it. She knew that tickle fight with Jack last weekend was a bad idea. The kid had pinned her as fast as his father had tonight. And he was three! She rolled her eyes internally . . . Hotch would probably get state secrets out of her.

She shook her head in shame, she was down for the count. Then she sighed, dropping her head onto his shoulder and mumbling against his t-shirt, "bleh, you win. I surrender. Ask your question."

Hotch slid his hand off her foot and back up her calf.

Then . . . without warning . . . he flipped her over again before he looked down and smiled.

"Everyone knows you can't surrender when you're on top. It's a rule."

Emily started to laugh, "You big goof! I REALLY don't think that's a rule! But _fine_, I surrender," she rolled her eyes, "AGAIN!"

His eyes crinkled, "I accept." Then he rolled off next to her and propped himself up on one arm, "all right, you already know which story I want. Let's hear it."

With a dramatic sigh she also propped herself up on her elbow, "okay, this is horrendously embarrassing. So you promise me, swear to me, on our friendship, this stays between us?"

Hotch snorted, "on our friendship. What are we twelve?"

Shooting him a glare, she poked her finger into his shoulder, "hey, you just threatened to TICKLE torture me buddy so you really don't get to comment on _my _maturity level."

His eyes crinkled as he tipped his head, "touché," then he sobered up, "seriously Emily you know everything you tell me is confidential. I won't tell anyone," his expression softened, "but honestly, if you're _that_ uncomfortable telling me, you don't have to. I was just kidding around." He reached over and touched her cheek, "you know I wouldn't ask you do something if I thought it would really upset you."

Emily pushed herself up and looked down at him for a second. At times like this she was convinced that he was the sweetest man on the planet.

She put her hand on his shoulder, pushing him over and rolling him onto his back again. And as he looked up curiously at her, his eyes crinkled, "you gonna try and pin me again? Because I _really_ don't think it counts if I just roll over and play dead."

Her lip quirked up, "no, nothing like that." She curled up next to him and put her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his torso. As his arm tightened around her she whispered, "you're very sweet. And I'm going to tell you now, _not_ because you won, but because you said I didn't have to."

Though she would have told him simply because she lost, the distinction was important to her. Because before she would have done it grudgingly. Now, though she was still embarrassed, she was telling him of her own free will.

Still worried, he rubbed his hand down her arm, "you're _really_ sure?"

It was one thing when he just thought it was a silly/embarrassing story. Like flashing someone on Mardi Gras and getting yelled at by the cops. But given the look on her face, this seemed to be more of an upsetting/embarrassing story. Now he was even more curious about what could have happened that was that bad. But he didn't want to manipulate her into doing something she wasn't comfortable doing. There were words for men like that, and they were all bad.

She nodded, "yeah, it's not an emotional trauma thing, it's just really, horribly embarrassing," she sighed, "but I suppose you already know lots of really embarrassing things about me so what's one more, right?"

Hotch kissed the top of her head, "well, how about I promise to go through with giving you one embarrassing story from my past too? Just to kind of keep us even."

She patted his stomach, "thanks. That sounds good." With a sigh, she rolled her cheek onto his t-shirt, "okay, you remember last winter JJ and I took the long weekend and went to Miami?"

He wrinkled his brow, "yes, actually I do." They took the Monday and the Friday. And the only reason it stuck in his head at all was because it was really strange having both of them gone at the same time.

Emily nodded, "okay, so we get down there, go out Thursday night, get up the next morning, and JJ's not feeling well. Looking back, I'm sure that was morning sickness, but given her due date now, and that she was drinking on vacation, I'm quite sure _she_ didn't know that. So Friday morning, she's feeling all yucky and didn't want to go out. Which sucked, because, hi, we're on vacation, and we NEVER go on vacation. And I was feeling fine and didn't want to stay cooped up in the room. So once I ran to the pharmacy to get her some ginger ale and Pepto Bismol, I went off by myself to do one of the things we were going to do together. We already had the tickets." She paused for a moment, "I went to the Seaquarium. In retrospect a very bad choice."

Hotch was starting to get an inkling of what led to the indecency part of the story and he rubbed his thumb along her arm as he asked rhetorically.

"The whale show?"

She closed her eyes and huffed dramatically, "the whale show." Opening her eyes again she shook her head, "so I'm by myself, no friend, no spouse, no kid, which was," she tipped her head, "perhaps a little odd. But," she pouted, "I just wanted to see the whales. So I give the guy my ticket and go sit down. But I'd never been there before and I didn't know where NOT to sit. And of course, being me, I sat in exactly the wrong place. Five minutes into the show I'm SOAKED! Like you threw me in the pool soaked."

Her eyes closed again as she cringed . . . this was the bad part. Well, the first bad part.

"And . . . I'm wearing white. White _tank top _and white _shorts, _and then of course white underwear and white bra because I've got the white clothes on. And the water was SO cold." Her eyes began to sting as her voice faded, "so cold."

Hotch cringed. Oh God, the poor thing! He shifted so he could pick her up, pulling her on top of his chest, before wrapping one arm around her body and stroking her hair with the other hand.

"Okay I got the picture. So what happened after?" Because he knew there was more to it than that. That was unfortunate, _very_ unfortunate, but not enough to make it a huge deal. She wasn't the first woman to get doused at the whale show.

She started to sniffle against his neck.

"Well, I didn't realize how bad it was right away. Not until I was leaving and people are looking at me and like pulling their children away. That's when I realized I was COMPLETELY see through and my nipples were sticking out! It was just beyond horrible. I didn't have a towel or even my stupid bag to cover anything. I didn't want to carry it so I only shoved the ticket and my room card into my shorts pocket. I didn't want to lose my money, and I wasn't planning on going anywhere else. So I had no money, no ID, no phone and no badge. But it wasn't too far to the hotel so I figure I'd just suck it up and go. I mean I couldn't stand around the freaking Seaquarium. There are all these little kids there and I'm like X Rated Girl giving a free anatomy lesson."

"So I leave, and you know it's nothing but catcalls and names and everything else as I'm going. And then," she took a breath, "I got stopped on the sidewalk by these freaking beat cops. Girls walking around in thongs all over Miami and they start harassing me for getting doused by a whale! And, believe it or not, they said they pulled me aside because I was in a school zone!"

A tear ran down her cheek, "they wanted to charge me with exposing myself to minors!" Her voice cracked, "ME!"

He felt a surge of adrenaline hit his system and he asked tightly, "did you get their names?"

Emily's eyes crinkled as she wiped her hand across her face before she reached up to pat his cheek, "it's okay, you don't have to kill them. I know they were just doing their job, but," her face fell, "it was me! How could somebody think that _I _was a pedophile!?"

He had no idea, but just the thought of it made him want to crack some skulls together. Maybe JJ would tell him who the cops were. Eh, probably not. He put that aside for now as he rubbed her back.

"So did they take you in?"

Please God no.

She wiped her hand across her eyes as she sniffled again, "uh huh, it was awful. I got read my rights Aaron! But fortunately I was starting to dry off a little bit by the time we got there and with my slightly less transparent clothes the desk sergeant actually took me seriously when I said I was an FBI agent. The cops had just laughed at me." She huffed, "the sergeant said he said he had to call my boss to confirm my identity. But obviously there was no way in hell I wanted you to know I'd just been picked up for indecent exposure in a school zone," she rolled her eyes, "I'd have rather died. So I convinced him to let me call JJ and she brought over my badge, showed him hers, and the sergeant was a decent guy. Once he saw I was telling the truth about who I was he believed my story about it just being a really bad morning. And he saw how awful it would be for him to call my boss with that story so he confirmed our identities through the local field office."

Emily was silent for a minute, "the sergeant let me go with an apology, and he made the two officers who'd brought me in personally apologize as well. One of them was pissed. He made a crack about female cops when the sergeant stepped out. The other one was genuinely apologetic." She chewed her lip for a moment, "so yeah, that was a bad weekend. And to date the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me."

Hotch tipped his head down to hers as he said quietly, "you sure you don't want to give me their names? At least the one that was still a dick to you when he apologized?"

He'd made a few high ranking friends down there on the last case. He could have this guy writing parking tickets for six months.

Her face softened . . . he was such a good guy. If only she could have gone through the first eighteen years of her life with him there as her protector. Someone who could have accepted her just as she was. And someone who would have scared off all of the bullies who'd made her life such hell. She probably wouldn't have made quite as big a mess of things when she was fifteen if she'd had him back then.

If only.

She leaned up to kiss his jaw, "it's okay. It was months ago. The guy was just an asshole. And he'll still be an asshole no matter you do to him. And really, that was just one more stellar moment in the saga that is my life."

They were silent for a minute as he ran his fingers up and down her back. Then he whispered, "you were right not to do an even exchange with me. I don't have a story quite that bad."

Actually, as he thought about it he realized he did. But his was a teenage sex story and that was FAR too embarrassing to ever be told. Then he looked down at her red rimmed eyes and felt a dig in his gut.

She was mortified by what had happened to her. And she told him anyway, even after he told her she didn't have to. And she did that because she trusted him. And he realized telling her a story that he was equally mortified by would be the only way he could truly repay her for that trust. He closed his eyes.

Crap.

When his lids opened again, his hand stilled on her back as he sighed, "Emily, can you look at me for a second please?"

Emily lifted her head and he stared at her for a moment.

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something. Something I, for reasons that will become obvious, was never planning on telling another living soul. This was clearly NOT the story I was going to trade with you. But, well," he tipped his head, "yours was much worse than I thought it would be so this is as close as I can get to even, okay?"

She tried to blink away the rest of the moisture in her eyes, "okay. But like you said, if it's going to make you feel weird don't do it just for me." He rolled his eyes, "it's okay. It's just a . . . blow to my male ego." Emily propped herself up on his chest so she could see his face, "okay, if you're sure."

Closing his eyes he muttered to himself, "I can't believe I'm telling you this." He took a breath and opened his eyes to look at her, "okay, the first time I had sex I was sixteen. And well, things didn't go well." Emily patted his cheek as she gave him a sympathetic smile, "well usually things don't go well the first time." He shook his head, "no, you don't understand. This was BAD. I didn't know what I was doing, and I couldn't get the condom wrapper open, and, well," he closed his eyes again, "suffice it to say, well . . ."

As he began to stammer, Emily's eyes widened in understanding. Oh God!

Reaching up she cupped his jaw with her hand, "oh Aaron," she pouted, "did the principal send the kids home early?" He looked at her for a second and then snorted humorlessly, "I guess that's as good a way of putting it as any other."

She moved herself further up she could bury her face in his neck. Poor thing. She couldn't believe he told her that story. That was, for a guy, probably on par with what happened to her. Because they really don't seem to have a problem with public nakedness, but sexual malfunctions are pretty horrific for them. And he told her so she'd feel less embarrassed about her own story. She put her hand on his cheek, such a sweet man. Then she whispered against his ear, "I think we're even."

He rubbed her back, "good. Because that's the worst one I have." She smiled, "well then we're definitely even because that's the worst one I have."

She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. They were laying there for a few minutes in silence and then he shifted slightly. And as she felt his warm body beneath hers she realized she'd been lying on top of him for almost ten minutes.

They were cuddling.

She was cuddling with Hotch. And it wasn't weird. Her eyes crinkled . . . it was nice actually. That was what she missed most about being in a relationship . . . the cuddling.

Cuddling wasn't sexual, it was about was about comfort and bonding. And those were some ugly stories they exchanged. That was definitely something she wouldn't tell anyone else. JJ was probably her closest female friend and if she hadn't been there Emily she would never have told her either. Her brow wrinkled as she thought about JJ, she was a little sad they didn't hang out much anymore. With the exception of the dress shopping, they hadn't really been out in months.

But JJ had Will now, and the baby on the way. She was entrenched in couplehood and Emily was still alone.

Though . . . her face softened . . . she really wasn't. For God's sake she's lying on top of a man, cuddling with a man, who just bared his soul to her. After she bared hers to him. So, though she may still be _single_, she wasn't alone. They might not be a couple but with Hotch she had many benefits of couplehood.

Besides . . . she rolled her eyes . . . outside of the actual sex, she thus far had found romantic relationships were overrated. With the exception of Sully, who she ended things amicably with, she'd yet to have one relationship she didn't completely regret when it was over. Most of her ex-boyfriends had turned out to be complete jerks.

But Hotch wasn't a jerk, he wasn't her boyfriend either, he was just her . . . Hotch. She moved her hand up to rub his shoulder . . . and that was enough.

Hotch felt Emily inhale, and as she slowly exhaled her warm breath hit his throat and he smiled. This was nice. Just like when she climbed into his bed a couple weeks ago. It was like he had someone again. He was starting to see in his relationship with Emily that he now had many of the perks of being married. Most of the stuff that he missed with Haley he had back again. Well, not the sex, but that wasn't what he really meant anyway.

And then he had a sudden realization . . . he didn't miss his wife anymore.

He had for a long time. Or at least . . . he furrowed his brow. . . he thought he had. But now he wasn't sure when he stopped. He just knew that for months, he had missed being married. And his feelings for Haley as a person were all jumbled together with his feelings about his lost family in general.

But Emily . . . she was kind of like a platonic wife. Though, as he thought about it, he realized that your spouse is ideally supposed to be your best friend. So that would make sense that in the reverse, if his best friend is a woman, and his main relationship experience to draw from is as a married man, he would see her in that role. He ran his fingers through her hair.

Well, whatever the word was, he was lucky to have her. He heard Emily mumble against his throat.

"I like this. Can we do this more often? Or would that be strange?"

He nodded, "I like this too. And things are only strange if we say they are Emily." She smiled, "fine, then I vote for more cuddling."

Hotch's lips twitched as he rubbed her back, "fine, but I'm not calling it that, it's too girly."

Yes, he did recognize it was in fact cuddling but that wasn't a word that men used _aloud_.

Emily giggled, "well then what what's the testosterone ramped up version of cuddling?"

"Hmmm," he twisted his mouth, "let's go with . . . oh wait no, we definitely can't use that one."

She rubbed his chest, "uh, uh, tell me. What were you going to say?" He snorted, "horizontal hugging." She started to laugh, "um, NO! That's a euphemism for sex you know!"

"I KNOW! That's why I said we couldn't use it," he sighed, "I guess I'll have to get back to you on this one."

Emily chuckled as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, "okay you do that. In the meantime we're going with cuddling," she settled back on his chest, "and you're just going to have to deal with it mister."

His mouth quivered . . . and _that's_ where the wife part comes in.

A few minutes later the bell rang for the pizza delivery and he realized he didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay there with her. And with the way she clutched his t-shirt he knew she felt the same way. But then the bell rang again, and he sighed, the pizza guy knew who he was.

He had to get up.

Without a word . . . and before Emily knew what was happening . . . he flipped them over, pushed himself back so he could scoop her up off the floor and carry her back to the couch.

Stunned at being dumped off his chest, Emily looked up at him and then she started laughing as he dropped her back on the cushions. His eyes twinkled as he squeezed her hand, "save me a seat." Then he grabbed his wallet off the end table and went to get the pizza.

As he was going to the door he grabbed the remote off the floor. That stupid marathon had been running the whole time and neither of them had noticed.

After he paid the guy he walked back, dropping the pizza down on the table before looking at Emily. She was smiling at him, and she was still lying flat on the couch.

His lips twitched as he stood over her, "aren't you hungry?"

She shook her head, "I can wait," she patted the cushion next to her head, "come lay down with me."

Now that cuddling was an option it sounded like much more fun than eating pizza. Ideally she'd get both but that might be a little messy for Hotch.

His eyes crinkled and he scooped her back up before sitting down with her in his lap. Then he pulled his legs up and shifted so Emily was on top of him but lying slightly to the left. He was very aware that she was a beautiful woman and he really wasn't looking to have a sexual encounter with his best friend. So he was careful to make sure the proximity warning wasn't sounding.

But she seemed aware of the concern there and hooked her leg over his hip. Ironically under other circumstances that in and of itself would be seen as a very sexual move but in this instance she was shifting to the side. Once she was situated he wrapped his arm around her and she whispered against his t-shirt.

"Please change the channel Aaron or I'm going to have to kill myself."

With a chuckle he started flipping the numbers higher, then he stopped when he got to Turner Classics.

Cary Grant.

That was one of her favorite actors. This should make up for the Paris Hilton torture.

He shifted his eyes down to her, "s'okay?"

Her eyes crinkled . . . Cary Grant . . . he remembered.

She nodded happily against his chest, "very okay."

Hotch dropped the remote on the table and then pulled the pizza box over to the edge. He flipped the cover back, grabbed a slice and took a bite off the end. Then he dropped it back in the box and wiped his fingers on his t-shirt.

Emily pushed herself up with a pout, "how come I don't get any pizza?"

He shifted his eyes over to her, "you can have some in a little bit. It's too hot right now, you'll burn yourself."

Someday maybe she'd tell him how that phobia came about. He knew without her telling him that one was a very bad story. Maybe she'd never tell him. But either way, in the meantime, he just tried to be mindful of things that would hurt her.

She gave him a little smile . . . he remembered that too. With a sigh she put her head back down on his chest, "'kay, thanks."

A few minutes later he picked up the slice again, taking another small bite before he passed it to her with a mock glare.

"Don't get cheese in my hair."

"Okay."

A few seconds after that Hotch felt something . . . what was . . .?

"EMILY!"

"Oops."

* * *

_A/N 2: So, I think you can see now why I pushed this chapter off to the end of September. They needed some more bonding/stuff to happen before they got to this point. Actually, I think it's safe to say this would be the fundamental shift to falling hard for one another. Because now that they've justified to themselves that they're okay with their 'non-couple' couple status, they become more comfortable with their couplehood. It's sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. _

_Paris Hilton! If you'll recall, I've had Emily make derogatory remarks about her once or twice before. Specifically I'm thinking of the airplane and Paris Hilton not serving any purpose on the planet beyond being a human petri dish. I actually can't think of a worse torture myself than watching that marathon._

_Emily's story. I had to think of something suitably humiliating that she would have refused to tell him at an earlier point in their relationship. Yet, it couldn't be anything that was like a serious trauma. This just_ _majorly sucked, but it wasn't going to require therapy. And Hotch's story, I thought sexual malfunction for nudity was an even exchange. Men, for some bizarre reason, don't seem to have the public nudity 'hang-up' that most (sober) women do. They might be slightly embarrassed but not mortified. And visa versa for women and sex stuff that doesn't quite go right. But I guess men see that more as a barometer of their virility, and therefore their masculinity. That's my theory anyway. I'd love to ask one of my guy friends if that was true. But I'm sure they'd tell me that nothing had ever gone wrong and they had no idea what I was talking about :)_

_Next up is the gala. But it's not done, nor does it even have a title, so that'll be a few days probably. It's two chapters, and ironically the second chapter is done. The post gala, back at Emily's house chapter. But this whole thing is coming to be me backwards and the only part of the actual party I have done is them leaving. _

_Oh and I'm not sure if I mentioned before but the Ambassador and Mr. Prentiss will be making a guest appearance in that one. Mr. Prentiss turned up once in The Hours but I had him 'off screen.' I didn't feel comfortable at that point trying to write an original character. But I had created a full back story for him at the time, and that's well settled into my head now. Plus my writing is better so I feel more comfortable making up a new voice. I think it came out pretty well but you guys will be the judge :)_


	85. By Any Other Name

**Author's Note**: Just an FYI - I went through and added the actual chapter titles to the chapter drop down list. Most of them anyway. I started getting a headache so I stopped :) I'll finish later. But so many people have been telling me they like to go back and read stuff over again, I thought that would be helpful. I just never thought to do it before.

* * *

_Late September: Friday_

**By Any Other Name**

Hotch walked down the hall fussing with his tie. He hadn't tied a bowtie in at least two years and he was pretty sure it had come out crooked. Eh, Emily would tell him if he needed to fix it. Ten feet from her door he stopped.

Emily.

Crap.

He should have brought her some flowers or something. It wasn't a _date_, date which is why he hadn't thought of it before. But still, he was picking up a woman and taking her to a party. You don't come empty handed. He was raised better than that.

And after checking his watch, he was relieved to see that he had a few minutes to spare. He'd told her to be ready a little earlier than they actually needed to leave. That was one thing he'd learned from twenty years of marriage.

If a woman needed to get dressed up then it was probably best to fudge the departure time so you weren't late.

As it was he was already timing their entrance as fairly close to on time. If he was being forced to attend this freaking thing he wanted to make damn sure he got credit for it. And the senior staff would be there early because they were the ones that needed to do the actual glad handing.

The rest of them were just supposed to go and make nice.

So he wanted to get there early for credit, but on the flipside, he didn't want to stay all night either. This thing started at 7:30, he was aiming to be there by 7:45 and out by 10:00. And right now it was 6:55 exactly. He'd left his house five minutes ago.

Okay . . . he turned around and started heading back towards the elevator . . . quick run to the flower shop down the street, and he'd be back walking down the hall fussing with his tie again in ten, fifteen minutes tops.

As he stepped onto the elevator, he flipped his phone open and dialed Emily. It rang so many times he thought it was going to go to voicemail but then she came on the line, slightly breathless.

"Hey, I'm not ready!"

His eyes crinkled . . . and _that's_ why there was a buffer.

"Okay, that's fine. I got held up so I'll see you in about fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Yeah, that works. See you in a little bit." And she was gone.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket as he pushed the front door open and headed back over to his jeep.

Though he wouldn't ordinarily lie to her . . . especially about something so stupid as where he was calling from . . . he didn't very well want to tell her that he'd forgotten to buy her flowers and had turned tail and run seconds from knocking on her door.

That type of disclosure just set a bad tone for the evening.

And fortunately the closest flower shop was only a three minute drive from Emily's building, so he was in there and standing in front of the cold case down back in less than five minutes. Now what should he get?

He chewed on the inside of his lip looking over the selections.

Carnations . . . he wrinkled his nose. The smell made him think of funerals. Plus that was kind of a cheap flower. It was a prom date flower.

Orchids . . . eh, he didn't think they were very pretty. And as he thought about it he remembered Emily wasn't a fan of them either. She said she didn't know what the big deal was.

Tulips . . . they were pretty but . . . he tipped his head, they seemed kind of spring'ish.

Roses . . . roses . . . could you give somebody roses if you weren't dating them? He scrunched his brow.

Probably. The colors were supposed to mean something about the relationship. Not that he knew what the hell they all meant. But he did know the red ones were for romantic love so he bypassed that bucket.

His eyes traveled over the other colors. There was yellow. Some part of his brain felt like that was friendship. And he figured the girl at the counter could pretty easily confirm or deny that supposition. And he was just about to go ask her when he saw it.

The perfect flower.

His lip quirked up as he slid the door open.

Though he hadn't seen her dress yet, she'd been so excited about it that was all she talked about at lunch on Monday. Surprisingly he had no problem listening to her chatter on for an hour about girl things. That was because every story she told had a unique Emily flair. And she was just so funny when she relayed the circumstances of discovering the one perfect dress, and all the duds she'd gone through to get to it. After he'd heard about the other selections, he told her he was personally a little disappointed she hadn't chosen the one she'd dubbed, 'the Sharon Stone.' And she responded that if she was wearing that one, then he was getting a crotchless tux.

And that was the end of that.

But his brain circled back around to the dress she had picked out. Royal blue. She was very specific about the royal. And though he pretty much just called blue, blue, he did know the difference between the basic shades. And he recalled her wearing a royal blue shirt in the past. It was a good color for her. And fortunately that was a color he could easily recognize, and he was _beyond_ thrilled to be staring into the bucket of royal blue roses.

Sensing somebody coming up behind him, he turned to see the salesgirl smiling at him.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Please," he tipped his head towards the case, "I'd like to get some of the blue roses."

The girl's eyes lit up as she stepped up to pull out the bucket.

"Oh yeah, these are quite beautiful. We don't ordinarily carry this many of the blue ones but we had ordered them for a wedding." She gave him a sad look, "but unfortunately they broke up three days before the ceremony so we're kind of swimming in blue roses. There are more in the back." She looked up expectantly, "how many would you like?"

Hotch looked down at the bucket.

They were long stems. So he should get her either one or twelve. After giving it a half a second's thought, he looked back up at the girl.

"A dozen please."

Her lip quirked up as she leaned over to start picking out the best ones from the array.

"Lucky girl."

As Hotch watched her count out the twelve he responded succinctly, "they'll match her dress." Plus, he knew they would make her happy.

The girl looked back at him with a little smile.

"Well I'm just glad somebody else will be able to enjoy them." She started to lead him up to the counter, "to be honest with you, I was a little afraid they were going to just sit there."

After she'd wrapped up the bouquet in plain white paper, Hotch saw her turn to pick up the silver paper to go around it. He put his hand up to stop her.

"Actually," he pointed, "could I have the gold please?"

Royal blue dress with gold shimmery crap. Of course that wasn't actually how she'd described it, but, close enough.

For a second the girl stared at him, then her lip quirked up.

"Sure," she nodded, "no problem."

As his eyes crinkled in relief, she turned to pull down the gold paper.

Well . . . she huffed to herself . . . he was obviously taken. She sighed. Too bad, he was such a hottie. She glanced back over at him in his tux . . . very lucky girl.

Once the roses were all wrapped, she rang up his purchase and he handed her his card. It wasn't until he was laying down the bouquet on the passenger seat that he realized he'd just spent a hundred dollars on flowers for Emily. His lip quirked up as he stared at them.

Eh, she was worth it.

/*/*/*/

Emily whipped the door open, yelled a "hey" in the general direction of the open space, and ran back down to the counter to grab her earrings. She was sliding the first gold hoop through her ear when she turned back to Hotch.

"I'll be ready in two minutes."

But then, seeing him looking at her oddly, she tipped her head in confusion.

"What?"

He blinked, "you look gorgeous."

She looked absolutely AMAZING! Couldn't tear his eyes off of her, amazing. As he walked down the hall he could see the blush rising on her face and his eyes crinkled. She was so cute.

Emily could feel her face getting warm as she gave him a little smile, "thanks." Then she did a spin, "you like my pretty new dress?"

He nodded firmly, "I LOVE your pretty new dress," then he flashed her a dimple as he pulled the bouquet from behind his back, "hopefully these match."

"OH!"

Emily could feel the tears spring to her eyes when she saw the flowers appear. Biting her lip she looked up at Hotch, "they're so beautiful! Thank you."

She couldn't believe he bought her roses! And blue ones! They matched her dress perfectly.

Oh . . . she wiped the corner of her eye . . . that means he actually _listens_ when she talks about the girly stuff. Sometimes she wondered if he was just bored and indulging her with an occasional nod. Apparently not, because she could see from the gold wrapping that he even remembered that part too.

He stepped closer to hand them to her, "well, I know it's not a date, date but I couldn't come empty handed," he kissed her cheek, his eyes crinkling as he pulled back, "that would have just been rude."

Emily smiled at him for a moment, always the gentleman. Then she brought the bouquet up to her face, inhaling deeply, "and they smell wonderful too."

Her eyes crinkled as she placed the flowers on the counter next to her so she could go over to give him a thank you hug. She smiled.

"You're the best."

She tried to put her arms around his neck but huffed when she realized she was too short without her shoes. She hooked her finger in a 'come here' move and Hotch's eyes crinkled as he leaned down slightly so she could reach. Then she giggled as he lifted her off the ground and squeezed her to his chest.

Hotch was a good hugger. Which was funny, because he wasn't a 'hugger' at all in mixed company. Really, any company, it was just her and Jack.

After he put her down, he ran his hand down her bare arm as he stepped back, catching her fingers in his, "you're the one that deserves that title. For absolutely no monetary incentive, beyond a free cheeseburger, you've agreed to attend this colossally boring party with me."

Her eyes crinkled as she squeezed his fingertips before letting go so she could pick up her bouquet again. Then she turned to him.

"I've decided that no matter how boring it is I'm going to have a good time tonight. We just have to stick together, okay?"

He raised a droll eyebrow, "well I _was_ planning on ditching you as soon as I got there but I guess sticking together works too."

She rolled her eyes, "you know what I mean."

His eyes crinkled at her annoyance as he watched her cross the kitchen to get a vase. At which point he could see she realized she couldn't reach the top shelf in her bare feet. He was already starting towards her as she turned back over her shoulder.

"Aaron would you help me please?"

Scanning the cabinet, he walked up, "which one do you want?"

"Um," she twisted her jaw and then pointed, "the middle one, thanks."

Reaching up, he pulled down the crystal vase and placed it on the counter. Then he looked at her, "I can do this if you need to finish getting ready," his eyes crinkled, "for instance I do think this is a 'no shirt, no shoes, no service,' kind of function," his gaze dropped down to her bare feet. The tips of her toes were painted blue and they were poking out from beneath her dress, "so you'll probably need shoes," he looked back up, "or were you not able to afford those and the dress?"

She raised a sardonic eyebrow, "funny man. Yes, I have shoes. Too tall shoes that will pinch my feet and I will complain about all night. I'm putting them on at the last minute."

He started filling up the vase with water and turned to look at her over his shoulder, "do you need to do anything else?"

Emily didn't answer him because she was watching as he started to unwrap the gold paper. She put her hand up, "wait I like the paper."

Confused, he looked between the vase and the flowers, "you want me to put them in the water _with_ the paper on them?"

She gave him a sheepish grin, "please, just for now," she fingered the foil wrapping as she said softly, "it's too pretty to throw away so soon."

Tipping his head he tried to see what she saw. Then he figured it didn't matter, they were her flowers, and she could do what she wanted with them. So he shrugged, "okay, whatever you say." He went over to the utility drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors so he could cut them down.

As she watched Hotch start to trim the ends of the flowers Emily remembered he was doing this so that she could finish getting ready. And she still needed to go grab her evening bag and shoes which were sitting up on the bed. She hooked her thumb over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

He nodded absentmindedly as he focused on his floral arrangement, "I'll be right here."

Her eyes crinkled as she pulled the bottom of her skirt up so she could run up the stairs.

Hotch heard her on the staircase and called over his shoulder, "you should go to the bathroom too!" Hearing a faint, "yes mom," coming from the landing, he chuckled.

Smart ass.

After he finished arranging the flowers . . . well, as much as he could arrange them with them wrapped, he brought the vase over to the coffee table. Given her reaction he figured she'd want to look at them. And she didn't generally stand around the kitchen gazing at the knickknacks. He went back and cleaned up the counter before going to sit down on the couch to wait for her to return.

Checking his watch again he saw it was almost 7:30. They were still doing okay on time though. They lived just outside the city, and they'd be going against Friday night traffic. If she came down in the next five minutes they should be there pretty close to eight. He looked up as he heard the stairs squeak.

And speak of the devil.

"Okay, I'm ready, well, basically. I'll just put my shoes on and then we can go."

Hotch was horrified to see her walking over carrying a pair of shoes that had at least three inch heels on them.

"Prentiss, you're going to break your neck!"

She dropped down in the armchair to slide her feet into the strappy heels. These were another hundred dollars but they were basically just a blue heel so at least she knew she could wear them again. Though Hotch was right about breaking her neck. She could only wear them again if she didn't kill herself the first time around. She looked over at him.

"I know they're really tall but the taller the heel the better the posture, plus," her lip quirked up as she crossed the silk fabric around her ankle tying them at the back, "they're really cute."

Hotch rolled his eyes as he watched her bind her feet up into the little deathtraps. He made a mental note not to let her go near any staircases unless he was holding onto her arm. But then she stood up, holding her dress to her knees she could look down at them. She put her leg out, "see they're cute." As he stared at the expanse of bare leg, he tipped his head, eh, maybe they did have some merit. Her legs looked fabulous. He scowled as he saw her wobble slightly . . . he still didn't approve though.

Emily put her hand on the back of the chair to steady herself.

Whoa! These were really tall.

Her boots had heels on them but they were practical, square heels, an inch or less. She had to be able to run in them. But she hadn't worn strappy stilettos in, well, she couldn't even remember how long. She probably should have been wearing them around the house when she got home from work. But she knew they'd pinch after awhile so she'd held off putting them on. And given that she felt like she was going to topple off them right now, she was thinking that perhaps that might not have been the best call.

Eh, she tilted her head to the side as she looked down at them, either way it was only a few hours. Provided she held firm to Hotch's arm on any staircases, she'd live to see the sunrise.

Dropping her dress back to the floor she looked over at Hotch with a little smile, "I'm ready now."

He stood up from the couch, took a step closer to her, and then stopped to stare at her for a moment. So gorgeous. His eyes crinkled and he tucked her hair back.

"You really do look beautiful Emily."

Even though she was a little embarrassed, Emily couldn't halt the progression of the smile that blossomed across her face, "thanks," she looked him over appraisingly, "and you look quite handsome."

Hotch was definitely made for a tux. And actually seeing him in one now she flashed back on her initial impression of him that night at her mother's and her lip quirked up, "very James Bond'ish."

He flashed her half a dimple, "well Mr. Bond had a few problems with his tie." He tipped his head back slightly, "is it straight?"

Emily's eyes crinkled, "actually you're right, it is a little bit crooked." She reached over and undid it, then quickly redid the bow, straightening it as she leaned back slightly and smiled, "there. All set."

Hotch looked over in amusement, "where did you learn how to tie a bow tie? Did you go through an Annie Hall stage that you forgot to tell me about?"

Running her hand over his shoulders and the front of his jacket, she brushed off a couple pieces of lint as she smiled softly.

"No, I did not go through a cross dressing stage. My dad used to have to wear them all the time. There were just so many functions. And even with him traveling so much I still probably saw him in a tux a half dozen times a year."

Her eyes crinkled as she looked up at Hotch's face, "and we didn't always have a lot of time together so when I was little I'd sit and talk to him while he got ready for the parties. He used to let me practice tying his tie because he said you can't have too many skills." Her expression softened as she thought back, "I got better over the years but he used to wear it no matter how crooked it was when I was done with it. Sometimes my mother would fix it afterwards but as I think back, she actually didn't do that very often, mostly she just smiled and told me I did a good . . . job."

She trailed off and Hotch tipped his head in concern, "are you okay?" She immediately pasted on a bright smile, "yeah, I'm fine. I guess we should get going."

Hotch stared at her for a moment, something had flickered on her face a moment ago. Something was up. But clearly now wasn't the time to question her about it. She was right, they really did need to go.

His eyes crinkled as he picked up her hands, squeezing her fingers, "okay pretty girl, let's get going."

Emily felt her face get warm again and she quirked her lip up.

"You keep embarrassing me like this at the party and between my red face and the fake blush I put on earlier, it's going to look like Miss Piggy put my makeup on for me."

Hotch chuckled as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, "I'm sorry I can't help it. I'm definitely going to have the prettiest date."

After she'd snatched her little purse off the chair, Emily turned back to look over at him as they started to walk down the hall.

"Aaron, there are going to be like five hundred people at this thing."

They had reached the door and he stopped, looking over with a quizzical expression, "what's your point?"

She stared at him for a moment and then her eyes crinkled as she patted his cheek, "you're sweet."

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

She had no idea how beautiful she was. He wasn't being 'sweet,' he was stating an empirical fact. Looking her over again he took note of her bare skin and he ran his thumb over her shoulder.

"Do you have a coat?"

"No," She shook her head, "it's still warm out. If I'd had time to look I'd have found a wrap to wear with the dress, but I should be fine." Her eyes crinkled, "and if I do get cold I am of course planning on stealing your jacket."

Though that approach clearly wouldn't work for chills at the party itself. But it should be warm in there. Again, five hundred people. It'll actually probably be hot as hell. She shook her head as she looked at him . . . Hotch was going to be roasting.

His lips twitched.

"You think so huh? What if I'm still _wearing_ my jacket?"

She slipped her hand around his waist, "ah, but lending a lady his jacket falls under the category of things that a 'gentleman' would do. And it's already been well established that you are indeed a gentleman."

Hotch opened the front door, raising his eyebrow as he turned to say drily.

"So you keep telling me."

Her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, then her gaze dropped to his lapel and her face lit up.

"Oh, you could wear one of my flowers!"

They were so pretty, and she'd been wishing that she could take them. But she couldn't very well carry them around all night. It wasn't a wedding.

He was about shake his head and say that they didn't have time, but then he saw how excited she was and he smiled instead, "sure."

It would only take a minute and it would make her happy.

So he hurried back down to the coffee table he pulled one of the roses from the bouquet and headed back to the kitchen. Quickly snipping it with the scissors he'd left in the sink, he looked down to tuck it into his lapel as he walked back over to Emily waiting at the door. He looked up, "s'okay?"

She smiled as she kissed his cheek.

"Perfect."

* * *

_A/N 2: So 4000 words and we haven't even left the house yet. This ended up coming as three chapters. And honestly there might be a fourth. Right now there's one chapter just covering after the gala and one chapter for the gala itself. But that gala itself chapter, some other stuff ended up happening in there and that got pretty long by itself. And it still needs to be tidied up so I might end up breaking that too. Probably in total this whole Friday night outing is topping out at like 13,000 words._

_I was going to have the party be on Saturday but then I realized I haven't done a full Jack chapter recently and decided to let them go to the circus. Also, I was perusing The Hours (looking for flashback stuff that I wanted to write 'live') and came across the bit where Emily mentions that in September, after taking Jack somewhere in town, they go antique shopping and Hotch buys a lamp. So after the zoo, they're going shopping. Basically we'll have like 7 chapters covering these next 24 hrs. You are all also welcome to mention things from The Hours you'd like to see here. I don't really have time to read the whole damn thing again. I start fussing with it and fixing things that suck and I never get anywhere. So basically I can only skim so I'm probably missing stuff. _

_I love blue roses. And if I was the type of girl who was inclined to waste ridiculous amounts of money on a wedding I'd probably fill the church with them. But I'm the type of girl that will get married at city hall and spend all the money renting out a bar for the reception and getting the biggest wedding cake they can haul through the doors. That's how I roll :)_

_Reviews folks, they feed the muse. And she still needs to finish up the next one._

_Next: "__**Sine Qua Non**__"_


	86. Sine Qua Non

**Author's Note**: This sort of went down a twisty little path I wasn't expecting. There is a surprise though :)

Total aside: I was watching an SVU rerun today and there was a little boy on there and he looked _exactly_ like I picture Jack in my mind. I'm wondering if that's where I got the image because he even had the little ears that stick out. He was a completely adorable, very serious looking little boy. Like a mini-Hotch. The episode was called 'Desperate.' If you're trying to place him, it had Rob Estes from Melrose Place. He was a batterer who killed his wife in front of his son. Fake Jack was the son.

Sine Qua Non - _without which it could not be – _I feel like this was a prompt from someone but I don't have any note on who could have given it to me. So, if it was you, thanks! And please let me know if you do exist and you're out there and I'll give you a shout out on my next A/N. You know I do like to give credit where it belongs. And this title did very much influence the flow of this chapter.

* * *

_Late September: Friday_

**Sine Qua Non**

Hotch finally disentangled himself from Director Levinson's grasp and started heading across the ballroom to retrieve Emily. His joke about ditching her when they arrived had turned out to be quite prescient. They'd been separated two minutes after they walked in the door when Levinson had grabbed his arm and told him there was someone he needed to meet from Justice. In Hotch's opinion he really _didn't_ need to meet him but, whatever, Hotch was just happy to have escaped before anyone else walked by.

It had been obvious from the ambush at the front door that the director had strategically placed himself by the entrance to note who showed up and who didn't. And that worked out well for Emily retrieval because she'd given Hotch a knowing grin and a shout as he was dragged off.

"I'll be right here, SIR!"

To his amusement she had told him she was deliberately upping her 'sir' count for the evening. She did have a good point though; it deflected attention away from any speculations about impropriety. She was simply there doing a favor for her boss.

And after they had left Emily at the door, Levinson had also taken the time to commend Hotch on his choice of companion for the evening.

It was well known among the senior staff who Emily's mother was. And though ordinarily both Hotch and Emily would have downplayed that connection, tonight they embraced the inference as to why he had chosen to bring her. It lowered any raised eyebrows about him showing up with one of his female agents.

As far as anyone else was concerned, it was a practical decision to attend a diplomatic function with the daughter of an ambassador. Also, Emily was fairly well connected in her own right, so there _was _a great deal of practicality in his choice. Though of course practicality had absolutely nothing to do with why he brought her.

But that was their little secret.

And given their little secret, he and Emily had a discussion in the cab about 'appropriate touching' under the circumstances. He said she was there as his date and it would look a little odd if he treated her like she had leprosy, aka, like he ordinarily would in front of the higher ups. So they were going with an 'off the clock with the team' comfort level. Of course with the understanding that random hand holding in front of their bosses should probably be eighty sixed unless there was some sort of dance move involved. Right before the discussion was tabled, Hotch added the addendum that handholding was also allowed if Emily was about to fall off of her 'skyscraper footwear' and break her neck falling down the stairs.

Emily concurred and the motion carried.

So, ground rules established, they'd entered the gala. With the flower arranging delay they'd ended up being fashionably late rather than close to on time. The place was packed by the time they walked through the doors at 8:15. Still good timing though, he just figured they'd extend departure time to 10:15.

And now it was 8:35. Levinson had grabbed him just after they walked in the door, so as far as Hotch was concerned, Emily had been alone for far too long.

He cut through the crowd, listening to all the languages being spoken. Over by the ice sculpture there was a French couple clearly in the midst of a fight and Hotch was wishing Emily was there to tell him what was being said. It was no fun eavesdropping if you couldn't understand who did what to whom. He finally spotted Emily's shimmering gown over by the door. His eyes crinkled, he'd just done a walk of the room, and he could say without a doubt, she really was the most beautiful woman here. She'd positioned herself slightly away from the doorway, he was deducing so that she could snag some free shrimp, but she was still in the same basic place he'd left her.

Suddenly he stopped short. There was a man talking to her. Leaning in, and talking to her. Hotch felt a little something in his chest that he couldn't place for a moment. And then he had it.

Jealousy.

He was jealous seeing another man talking to Emily. Huh. That was . . . unexpected. He tried to shake off the sensation for now, he'd think about what it meant later. In the meantime, regardless of his own personal reaction to her new companion, he was now taking note of Emily's reaction to said companion. Tight smile and she was almost pinned against the wall. His jealousy quickly turned to anger.

This asshole was bothering her.

And it's not like she was in situation where she could slam him against the wall and shove a shrimp fork in his face. They were here _exclusively _to play nice. Which meant _he_ couldn't slam him against the wall either.

God damn it.

With a slight growl, Hotch quickly covered the remaining distance between them, putting his hand out as he walked up. Her fingers immediately slipped into his. And it pained him to see how tightly she grasped them.

"Aaron!" she gestured to the man in front of her, "this is Dimitri Chilovski, an attaché at the Russian embassy," she turned her tight smile to Hotch, "we knew each other in Moscow."

As far as Emily was concerned, Chilovski was a complete scumbag, borderline pedophile. He was just an errand boy back when they met. He was in his twenties, she was just shy of adolescence and he used to 'talk' to her whenever he came to the embassy. He had creeped her out even then. But she was too young to understand why. Her father had been away when Chilovski had first turned up, but the first time he saw him within ten feet of his daughter he'd gone practically apoplectic.

To this day Emily had no idea what her father knew that her mother didn't, but after that day Chilovski was no longer welcome at their home. And her father had to have known something pretty bad, because you don't just ban members of the Soviet party, even low level ones, from the American embassy.

Chilovski had spotted her ten minutes after Hotch left. She was astounded he'd recognized her but he said she looked just like her mother did at her age. Which was true, she'd seen pictures of her mother back then, and though the ages were a little off, they bore a striking resemblance.

It was just unbelievable to her, almost thirty years later, here he was standing in her face, breathing his hot disgusting breath on her just like he did when she was a kid. She'd never wanted to knee somebody so badly in her life. But now Hotch was back, and Hotch's natural Hotchness would drive this man away.

Hotch's jaw twitched as he saw the revulsion pouring off of Emily. Clearly she wanted this man to disappear from her sight. And he presumed based on her introduction as "Aaron" rather than by full name and title that she had said she was there with someone. Well, she was. And that someone pulled her away from the wall and slipped his arm around her waist. Then he turned back with a curt nod.

"If you'll please excuse us, Emily is needed elsewhere."

And with that he simply walked them off without a hello exchanged on either side. Given wall slamming was out, Hotch thought that was the 'nicest' way to handle things.

Emily slouched against him, "God! I wanted to do that the moment I recognized him, just walk away. But he would have followed me and I probably would have ended up shoving him into a tray of cucumber sandwiches and then clubbing him to a bloody pulp. I'm thinking that probably would have gotten us both fired."

Hotch's lips twitched before he sobered, "what's his deal?"

As Emily explained about her past dealings with Mr. Chilovski, and in particular her father's reaction to him, Hotch tightened his grasp about her waist. Hotch knew from personal experience that fathers had a sixth sense for danger. And beyond that, Hotch knew that Emily's father in particular would have been in a position to know things that others would not. And as suddenly the thoughts of those 'other things' careened into him like runaway dump truck, Hotch stopped short in the middle of the room, looking down at her with a touch of panic.

"He never touched you, right?"

Her face softened as she saw the level of concern in his eyes, "no," she shook her head, "not like that. He used to like to," she shuddered, "'give hugs,' but I was never alone with him. My mother might not have picked up on the same 'stranger danger' vibe that my dad did, but clearly she wasn't going to send her eleven year old daughter off with any strange man."

Emily bit her lip as she thought back, "I actually don't even blame my mother. Well," she shook her head dismissively, "blame isn't even the right word, it's not like anything happened. He was just a guy that creeped me out, and knowing what I know now, I can see WHY he creeped me out. But you have to figure it was a different time then. People weren't so suspicious. There hadn't been any of the high profile cases that would come later that would make you assume that all of your neighbors were sexual deviants." She rolled her eyes, "of course we know that in actuality only HALF of your neighbors are sexual deviants."

She was hoping the little half assed joke would ease up on the tension pouring off him.

He stared at her for a moment longer, and she held his gaze, waiting to see if she'd washed away the worry. She couldn't really tell. His face had no expression. But finally his jaw twitched, and his hand rubbed her side as he turned away to look around the room.

"Let's get a drink."

There were trays of champagne but he knew she didn't really much care for it so he headed off in the direction of the bar on the other side of the hall. The room was huge, cavernously so, and the noise was slightly annoying. But at the moment he didn't so much mind. It was more of a white noise, a buzzing in his ear, and he was hoping it would wipe some horrific images out of his brain.

A little girl . . . a little Emily . . . being brutalized. Brutalized like so many hundreds of other little girls, the details of whose cases were constantly rolling around in his head.

The thought made him sick, actually, _physically_ ill. And he wasn't 100% sure that the alcohol hitting his stomach wouldn't go on a straight recoil back up his throat. But he was willing to risk it. He just kept rubbing her side, telling himself she was fine, nobody had touched her.

Or . . . he swallowed some of the bile that started to rise up . . . at least not _that_ man. But it had just occurred to him, he actually didn't know for sure that nobody had ever touched her. What he _did _know for sure was that there were some bad things in her background. Very bad things. Tempers like theirs grew from dark corners, cultivated by pain and trauma. If not that man, maybe there was another.

Maybe that was why Emily reacted so violently to being touched by men she didn't know.

And suddenly that nausea in his stomach hit the power of ten and he bypassed the bar, walking them out the side door and down the hall. He knew she was looking over worriedly but he couldn't talk just yet.

This was not a question to ask in public.

He went to the far end of the hall and turned the corner, seeing a smaller set of function rooms, probably used for conferences. He went down to the end, opening the last door and slipping inside the small room. The lights were off, but the moon was almost full and the light coming through the floor to ceiling window was quite bright. He could see all the chairs that were around the edges of the room and tables pushed down front. He shut the door behind them, turned the lock, and walked them over to the far corner where he sat down in a chair by the window, pulling her into his lap. Her face was clearly illuminated, and all he could see there was worry.

Emily hadn't spoken one word since they left the main ballroom. She had no idea what was wrong with him. But she was concerned, very concerned, because he didn't look well. And she was afraid that had something to do with her. Something to do with what she'd said. She ran her fingers through his hair as she said softly, "Aaron, what's wrong?"

Hotch took a breath before looking up at her.

"I need to ask you a question. And I'm sorry if it's too personal, but," he cleared his throat, "I have some terrible . . . terrible thoughts in my head right now, and I don't think I can concentrate on anything else until I ask you this question."

Though he wasn't sure what he was going to do with the answer if it was the one he was terrified of hearing. He just knew either way, he needed to know.

Her concern changing to confusion, Emily stared at him for a moment, waiting, watching as he took a breath and his brow creased.

"I know this isn't my business unless you wanted to tell me. And it certainly falls under the category of things I wouldn't ask you to talk about unless you were ready. But," his eyes stung as he looked at her, "please know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Emily's brow wrinkled, wondering where he was going with this. But then she took note of the way he was holding onto her, and the distress on his face, and her eyes widened in understanding.

Oh.

Her expression softened as she put her hand on his cheek and said quietly, "never."

The look of relief on his face made her chest hurt and she knew now what had happened.

He shook his head slowly, "really, never? I mean I know again, it's personal but . . ."

Putting her finger to his lips, she cut him off, "but the story I told you about that man started your mind spinning off down one of a thousand dark corridors. And you made yourself sick with worry that maybe one pedophile came after me because he sensed the damage already done by another."

Embarrassed that she had so easily seen how warped his mind was, his eyes turned downward as he nodded, "yes."

She stared at him for a moment, and then wrapped her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear, "don't be embarrassed, I understand. But I promise you that isn't what happened to me." She pulled back, tipping her head to catch his eyes as she cupped his jaw, "maybe someday we'll talk about what did happen," she gave him a knowing look, "to both of us."

He looked down again . . . she knew. Well, of course she knew. She was a profiler, same as him. All the time they spent together, there's no way she wouldn't have picked up on the damage that had been done to him. He slowly raised his head, looking at her for a moment before he whispered, "maybe someday."

They weren't anywhere near there that day. And who knows? Maybe they'd never get there. But simply the fact that it was a maybe was astounding to him. Haley had been his wife for twenty years, and she still knew nothing of his childhood. Nothing of his father's drinking or Gerald's belt.

But Hayley was . . . normal. She'd had a normal life, two parents that had been married for forty-five years. She grew up with two sisters, a dog, a house in the suburbs. And she'd talked about her life. For twenty years she had talked about her life, and he knew, there were no dark corners there.

So she would never have understood what happened to him. And that was good. Because Hayley's innocence, her purity, was what drew him to her. But as he looked back now, he could see that probably was part of what had torn them apart. Because that damage he had suffered, he didn't want her to know about any of it. So all of that was hidden, the entire first half of his life. As was all the rage and the darkness that came about because of it. How could you sustain a healthy relationship with another person if she only knows half of the person that you really are? You couldn't. He saw that now.

But with Emily it was different. She already knew about the rage, and the darkness, because she had it herself. So she would understand about his life, what had happened to make him the way he is, in a way that Hayley never could. And that had some appeal, stripping away that last bit of armament and actually, truly, being himself.

That . . . that, had a great deal of appeal. Maybe someday . . . he sighed . . . but not today.

He looked up and Emily gave him a sad smile. Then she pulled him against her chest and kissed the top of his head. With a sigh he wrapped his arms around her and they just held each other for a moment.

Comfort exchanged for the scars that the other could see, even though the stories behind them were still untold.

After a moment she rubbed her hand down his back.

"I think we're both agreed that we're a ways off from those conversations," she felt him nod against her shoulder and she continued, "but you can still ask me things," her eyes crinkled sadly, "I might not answer but you can ask," she leaned back and put her fingers under his chin so he was looking at her, "but I'll tell you if I can . . . if I'm ready. Because I know, given all the horrible things that we see, that sometimes a thought will burrow into your brain, and you can't get it out. And if that thought is about me, then I want you to tell me." She ran her thumb along his cheek, "because I don't want you worrying about me."

Hotch's fingers followed his gaze as they both ran along the smooth skin of her shoulder. Then his hand stilled as he looked up and gave her a sad smile.

"I already worry about you Emily. You can't do anything about that."

With each passing week, he worried more and more. But she didn't need to know that.

She kissed his forehead, "I know," she pulled him back to her, squeezing him tightly, "I know you do, and I know you can't help it." She smiled against his hair, "that's what makes you, you." She leaned back to give him a small smile, "and I like you just the way you are."

He winked, "ditto." Her eyes crinkled and he looked at her for a moment before he took a breath, "we should get back."

Her eyes were soft in the moonlight as she stared at him for a moment.

"We probably should get back. But instead, how about we just sit here for another couple minutes?"

Nobody was going to miss them. The party was much too crowded. He'd already made his face time with Levinson, all they really had to do was make a quirk curtsy before the queen, aka Strauss, and then they'd be free for straight mingling. In the meantime, Strauss would be busy torturing her minions and drinking her eye of newt. And nobody was going to walk in on them back here. The door was locked.

And if anyone else was looking for privacy, for a phone call or . . . her lip quirked up . . . anything else, there were other empty rooms closer to the main hall.

She wanted to stay because she wanted to give Hotch another minute to pull his armor back into place. They couldn't go back out there with him sad and distracted, clutching onto her like she was a balloon he was afraid would float away. Given his worries were focused at the moment about her physical well being, she figured a quick cuddle, a tangible reminder that she was alive and well, would put him back to center.

Her theory was confirmed as he nodded his agreement that they could stay a few more minutes. Then he put his head back against her shoulder and she leaned down to rest her cheek against his soft black hair.

As Emily leaned her head against his, and he pulled her in closer, he thought back to the first time they had done this. In January, after he got his divorce papers.

A lifetime ago.

Back when he was a married man who almost slept with the woman now sitting in his lap. Even though his marriage had fallen apart anyway, he was still grateful he'd made the decision to stop that night. Now that he knew about all the worthless men that had gone through her life, it would really bother him if they had slept together back then just so he would feel better.

He would have felt like another one of the users who had tossed her aside when he was done getting what he wanted.

And just by virtue of the situation, that would have been what happened. They would have had sex that one time, and then gone back to their lives as before. He sighed against her neck, and who knows what would have become of their relationship. Maybe things would have become awkward. Maybe they wouldn't have been able to work together anymore. Maybe she would have transferred. He felt a pang in his chest, maybe they never would have become friends. And now that she was in his life, he couldn't imagine going back to what it was before.

Back when he was alone.

He would always be grateful though for the other things that had happened that night. His eyes crinkled as he thought back . . . getting to make out with a pretty girl.

Who wouldn't be grateful for that?

But beyond just the physical, he realized that night in the bar, those events, they probably set the groundwork for their relationship to evolve to what it is now. Not only their friendship, it was clear looking back that their bond had begun then. But also, they didn't have any awkward sexual tension now. Something that wouldn't be unusual given their lack of personal space, and well, honestly, their general attractiveness.

But that night they'd started to cross that bridge and turned around and come back. Having decided that wasn't a place they were looking to go. So now he could sit here, and he could hold her, and he could just be happy without any other distractions. His affection for her was based on emotional factors, not physical ones.

His lip quirked up, but there was one physical aspect of their interactions night that did still distract him. And it wasn't what people would assume. No, it wasn't the almost sex, his distraction was from the kiss. She had tasted like something familiar. Something he couldn't place. And that's why, even though so many months had passed, and their relationship had evolved far beyond what it was that day, he still couldn't let that thought go. He just wanted the answer to that one question.

But it's not like he could ask Emily if she'd like to go hit another bathroom and make out again so he could get another shot at figuring it out.

Though . . . he bit his lip . . . maybe there was another way. He leaned back and looked at her.

She wrinkled her brow, "what?"

His lip quirked up, "would you allow me to do something solely for scientific purposes?"

Their relationship had reached a point where they had few boundaries so he figured it couldn't hurt to ask. At worst she'd laugh and say in your dreams, at best he'd get his answer.

She felt her lips begin to twitch, 'scientific purposes,' she had a feeling this was going to be good.

"That depends. What is it that you would like to do?" He flashed her a dimple, "kiss you," as he saw her eyes widen in surprise, he tipped his head, "I have my reasons. If I attempt to explain them you're just going to make fun of me."

Her mouth quivered, "well odds are I'm going to make fun of you anyway." He nodded, "true, but on this one in particular I'm pretty sure you'll say I'm nuts."

He waited for her to make her decision. It could really go either way.

Emily looked down at him in amusement.

It was clear from the look on his face that this wasn't a really strange sexual advance. He truly was 'curious' about something. God only knows what. Hotch's brain sometimes worked in funny ways, but usually she could anticipate the outcome. On this one she had no clue. She chewed the inside of her lip, thinking about his request.

A kiss. Hmm. Eh, what the hell? It's not like they hadn't done it before.

She snorted, "sure, who am I go stand in the way of scientific pursuit."

His eyebrows went up in surprise, "really?"

She shrugged, "yeah. I mean if we hadn't had our little bathroom make out session I'd probably say no. But, we did. And the world didn't end, our relationship didn't crumble to pieces, and things weren't weird after."

As she thought about it, things were actually notably better between them after that. Hmm, she wondered if he'd been thinking back on that night for some reason. Maybe that's what his little science experiment was related to.

He tipped his head warily, "you're _sure_, it's okay?"

At her bemused nod he grinned, "excellent," then he looked at her for a second, wondering what to do. Well, he knew _what_ to do. But it was a little weird kissing Emily on the lips.

Emily saw his brow wrinkle in confusion and she started to giggle.

"Did you forget how? Is that the reason for the experiment? You can't remember how to do it anymore?" She leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, "here's a hint, there are lips involved."

He scowled, "I know HOW to do it. It's just not something I usually do," he saw her eyebrow rise in amusement and he quickly tacked on an annoyed, "WITH YOU!"

Though as he thought about it he realized he really didn't do "it" with any women lately. And that was with "it" being defined in all possible euphemistic ways "it" could be defined.

Crap.

He had a horrible thought. Hopefully he _did_ still remember how to do it!

Both its.

Though . . . he relaxed slightly . . . he had made out with a woman more recently than he'd had sex with one. And not just the thing with Emily in January. Because that definitely wouldn't have counted as 'recently.'

A few weeks after the disastrous JAG outing, he'd reluctantly agreed to have one more blind date. Just to get Dave off his back. This one was a very pretty brunette. The first date hadn't been horrible (he was now using Emily's standards of dating enjoyability) so they'd gone out one more time. The second date she kissed him. He was a little taken aback given that he was unlocking the car door at the time. Then he figured what the hell, and he'd kissed her back.

Then he did a little bit more than that.

But, his nose wrinkled as he thought back, it didn't do much for him. It was nothing special. Nothing memorable. And after that he decided he'd had enough of 'getting back in the saddle' as Dave called it. He thanked Dave for his concern, but said he was content with his life as it was. Then he'd raised a sardonic eyebrow at him and explained that he was pretty sure he'd remember where everything went when the time came again. Dave had just rolled his eyes as he walked out muttering, "practice is half the fun you idiot."

And now Hotch was wondering if perhaps he should have kept up with his practice. Because he really didn't want to do this badly. She would definitely make fun of him.

Then he saw her mouth begin to quiver . . . she was just about to start laughing at him . . . so he said screw it. He leaned up, pressed his mouth against hers and then slowly swept his tongue along her lips. And as she closed her eyes and sighed he had a moment of great personal satisfaction.

_YES, I do still remember! Screw you Dave!_

Then he refocused on the matter at hand. He was only going to get the one shot at this, so he closed his own eyes and focused.

His tongue ran slowly along her lips again and they opened and he gently ran it along her teeth, then the grooves on the roof of her mouth. She moaned slightly at that and he smirked.

That wasn't actually part of the experiment, he was just screwing with her. Proving the point for the naysayer that he did INDEED still remember how to do it. Then he continued his gentle exploration, sweeping his tongue along the side of her mouth, and finally back to meet hers. He wasn't looking to suck face. This wasn't a make out session. He had no intention of getting them worked up into anything. So, to that end, keeping things under control, just the tips of their tongues touched, and then he had it. He knew what it was and he smiled as he pulled back.

Emily opened her eyes a second after Hotch pulled away. He could see her face was slightly flush and she grinned as she licked her lip, "experiment over?"

God! It was really hard not kissing him back! When somebody has his tongue in your mouth, you very much feel like you should be participating in whatever activities are taking place.

But . . . she snorted to herself . . . that probably would have affected his 'data accumulation.'

He flashed her a dimple, "it is."

Her eyes twinkled as she wiped the lipstick off his mouth, "and did you get your answer?"

He stood, pulling her up with him before he looked down at her with amusement, "I did."

Her lip quirked up, "you going to share with the class?"

He wrapped his arm around her as they started back across the room, "ah, but the class doesn't know what the question is. So the answer would mean nothing."

She tipped her head onto his shoulder, "have you ever heard of knowledge for the sake of itself?" She looked over with a little smirk, "come on, tell me what the answer is."

His eyes crinkled as he looked at her, then he reached up to fix a slight smudge of her lipstick before he said one word.

"Home."

Emily reminded him of home. Comfort, familiarity, acceptance. He'd been wrong, it wasn't a taste. That's why he couldn't place it. It was a sensation. One he received the first time his tongue swept into hers. And now it had come to him again. He didn't quite understand where it had originated from the first time. And that's probably why he couldn't place it back then. They were only work friends then. Their bond was just beginning to form. But now that she engendered those feelings from him in so many other ways, he could see it, understand it for what it was.

It was simply another way that they connected.

Though . . . he snorted to himself . . . they wouldn't be 'connecting' like that again.

She wrinkled her brow in confusion, "I don't understand."

He brushed her hair back from her shoulder, "I know, but that's okay. You don't have to. Just trust me, your assistance was greatly appreciated."

She snorted, "well you know me and science. Anything for the cause." He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed, "well, not ANYTHING! I think, sadly, we're going to have to curtail any additional scientific excursions."

Really, once was fine. It was actually fun. Hotch was a good kisser. And he was a cutie pie. But any more science experiments and things could start getting weird. You can only make out with a man so many times before there would be a physiological reaction. And their relationship didn't have a sexual component. And _that_ was what enabled them to have the relationship that they did. They flirted but there was no real sexual tension. If there was, straight cuddling would be a little awkward. And it would be VERY awkward if they started having physiological reactions happening on either side. And no way was she messing up the cuddling.

Hotch stopped at the door to look over in mock horror, "NO more scientific excursions? I can't climb the Grand Tetons? No trips to Death Valley?"

Emily barked a laugh, "if you're calling it Death Valley I can see many lonely years of celibacy ahead of you." His mouth quivered and she playfully patted his cheek, "and as for the Tetons, yeah those are off limits as well cupcake."

He smirked, "damn, I should have negotiated the terms of my experiment better."

She reached over to unlock the door, giving him a sardonic eyebrow over her shoulder.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda, it's too late now buddy."

He slipped his arm around her waist as he opened the door, "I guess I'll have to find another girl to experiment with."

Amused, she glanced over, "got any prospects for another girl?"

He didn't know any other girls.

His lips twitched, "well, given that I only know like four women, no."

"FOUR?!" Emily feigned astonishment, "where did you meet a fourth girl?"

He tipped his head over, "Strauss."

Emily's scrunched her face in disgust, "EWW! That's just . . . yuck."

Okay, there's a visual that will keep her up tonight. Just . . . yuck!

Chuckling, he ran his fingers down her arm, "I agree. That's why I said I had no prospects. My days of scientific exploration have temporarily come to an end."

Her eyes crinkled as she surveyed him in his tux.

"It's sad day for the scientific community."

* * *

_A/N 2: I KNOW! Kissing! Who would have thunk it? That was the twisty little path I went down. This was the last stage, before they start becoming aware of their changing feelings, so I could get away with it. For them it was still just a bit of fun. And that's it for 'real' kissing until December. _

_I had expected, as perhaps you did, there would dancing, eating, socializing at the gala. Not heavy non-discussions about their childhood traumas and major bonding. But one thing led to another. And I thought it was important at this stage, before they really settle into the more romantic stuff (which is most of October), to address the sexual tension stuff. I've addressed it in the A/N but not with their thoughts. And I think it's true that what enables me to write them with the touchy, flirty relationship is because they've already had the 'first' kiss and they'd always handled any references to the making out in a casual lighthearted way. So that's one 'will they or won't they' question that's already been addressed. They did, and they moved on to other things. You see now why the prompt title was so perfect._

_I had to give Hotch one more date, with the one make out. Come on, I didn't want the guy to be like a total eunuch. Emily was crappily dating in the summer, Hotch was allowed to as well. Of course it was all Dave's doing. And I could see that on the show. _

_Hotch's 'home' sensation, that's the soul mate thing. Sort of the undercurrent here starting with the opening quote of the story 'you meet the people you're supposed to meet.' Connecting with your 'one' person, in whatever way that happens. And that was for him, the first time he was aware of it. Even though he really doesn't understand fully what that means._

_There are presently two more chapters covering this evening. _

_So did you like the surprise kiss?!  
_

_Next: "__**Father Knows Best**__"_


	87. Father Knows Best

**Author's Note**: This picks up a couple minutes after the last chapter ended.

Also, I said Em's folks will turn up here. As you know, Emily's mom is played by Kate Jackson. As far as I'm concerned, Emily's dad is played by Bruce Boxleitner. So that's who you should picture. And I did this because the inside joke of it amused me because there was a show (which many of you perhaps know) called Scarecrow & Mrs. King. And Kate Jackson and Bruce Boxleitner were spies that lived in Washington and eventually they got married on the show.

So I hope if they ever do cast Em's dad on the show, they do pick him because it totally works. Plus he has that more gregarious personality. And I think I've said in the past Emily is more like her father. Given there is no canon on her dad I named him Richard. It went well with Prentiss, and I could hear the Ambassador saying it :)

* * *

_Late September: Friday_

**Father Knows Best**

As they reentered the main hall, Hotch slipped his arm down off of Emily's shoulders and put his hand on her back instead.

Given that they were off to see the queen, Hotch didn't want to get his head taken off.

When they found her Hotch was amused to see Strauss was holding court with a few high ranking officials from the EU. Unlike the majority of the FBI chiefs, who were just there because they were _ordered_ to be there, it was obvious to him that she actually was trying to make contacts. And contacts meant really, _anybody_ that could eventually help her down the road.

He'd never understand the appeal of politicking for your job. All of his promotions had been merit based. And he wouldn't want them any other way, which was something that Strauss would never be able to understand. Which is why, to his continued consternation, it was obvious she still considered him a threat to her future career plans.

But Hotch really had _no_ desire to move up the chain anytime in the foreseeable future. For one thing, the cases were much too important to him. But also, he HATED riding a desk. So he figured as long as the work didn't burn him out, and he was fit for field work, he'd stay in the field. Unit Chief was as high as he could go and stay in the field. And given that Dave, who was thirteen years his senior, was still physically fit to chase down bad guys, Hotch figured he would be at his age too. Granted, his priorities may shift in the future, but for now, he wasn't going anywhere.

After both sides had finished their disingenuous greetings, Strauss' including a frosty, "my don't you look lovely Agent Prentiss," Hotch and Emily slipped off to the bar where Hotch settled for a glass of wine rather than the whiskey he'd needed an hour earlier. Then to Emily's delight, he snagged her a full platter of jumbo shrimp. All he'd had to do to get it was slip the guy twenty bucks and promise not to steal the silver tray. Then they settled over in the corner so she could eat her cholesterol laden snack. He looked over at her and his eyes twinkled when he saw the cocktail sauce on her nose. Picking up a napkin he looked at her with his lips twitching.

"You got a little something," he dabbed her nose and Emily giggled, "oops. Thanks." He saw that her shrimp consumption was slowing and he raised his eyebrow, "getting full."

She nodded sadly, "yep," looking down at the still half full tray she pouted, "I wish I could bring them home." Her face lit up as she turned to him, "I don't suppose . . ."

Hotch shot her a glare, "NO PRENTISS! I am _not_ stuffing shellfish into my pockets!"

Wrinkling her nose she looked back down at the tray, "yeah I figured that was a non starter." Sighing, she surveyed the remaining pieces of shrimp on the tray, "oh well boys, we had a good run," she turned back to Hotch with a little smile, "okay, I'm done."

Eyeing her suspiciously, Hotch looked at her for a second before reaching over to grab a piece of shrimp for himself. He'd been waiting until she'd picked what she wanted from the tray before he put his fingers into the mix. He was afraid she'd mistake one for the other.

Emily laughed, "I wasn't hungry enough to devour human flesh Hotch."

His chewing slowed as he shot her a bemused eyebrow, "didn't really want to risk it."

Rolling her eyes, she leaned back in her chair and surveyed the room. Well, what she could see of it. She'd been debating dancing but her shoes were starting to bother her. The 'little deathtraps' as Hotch had dubbed them, were also little torture chambers. She'd love to just slip them off, but again, not a wedding. It really wouldn't do to be walking around a UN affair barefoot.

Peering over his shoulder she checked the time on Hotch's wristwatch.

9:36

Her brow wrinkled, he said they had to stay until a little after ten. Okay, so they'd grab another glass of wine, do a quick walk around the main room, then she'd get a fancy ball dance in over in the adjacent room, and then they could go right after that. She could take her shoes off in the cab.

Oh wait . . . her nose wrinkled in disgust . . . cab floors are gross. People throw up back there. Okay, well, whatever, they'd be going home by then. She could suck it up for the last fifteen minutes.

Hotch swallowed his last bite and wiped his fingers on the napkin before looking over the tray. They did pretty well all by themselves. There were only four pieces left. But they'd been held up at work so there hadn't been time for either of them to get dinner before they started getting ready. So actually, when viewed in that light, it wasn't quite so piggish to eat a half pound of jumbo shrimp apiece.

Looking over he saw Emily's wine glass was just about empty so he took that from her and picked up his own off the floor before taking them, and the shrimp tray, back to the bar. He was debating getting them more wine when he glanced back over his shoulder and saw Emily had _another _guy leaning in talking to her.

Son of a bitch.

He was gone for two seconds! What were there vultures waiting for him to move away so they could swoop in?

He rolled his eyes as he looked at how gorgeous she was in her dress . . . yeah, probably.

For a second he stood there debating if he should go back. It's not like she couldn't talk to other men if she wanted to, it wasn't a date, date. But still, it's a little emasculating to have your date, no matter how you define the word, get picked up right in front of you.

But this time she wasn't having a fight or flight response to her conversational partner so he just sighed and turned back to get the whiskey he'd wanted earlier in the night. If he was going to have to be a good guy and let his best friend talk to 'gentleman' friends then he was at least getting some hard alcohol in exchange for his testicles.

He had just tossed back his shot when he turned to see a very pretty blonde standing next to him smiling.

"Halo."

Swedish.

He smiled, "hi."

Emily looked up to see Hotch over at the bar with some woman hanging off his side. She scowled.

What the hell?

Does that skank think that somebody that looks like _Hotch_ couldn't get a date to this thing!? Yeah, granted she wasn't a date, date but still, she was the one with the title at the moment. And she didn't much appreciate being dumped against the wall like some wallflower while her 'date' goes off and picks up some blonde bimbo.

Well . . . she tipped her head . . . okay, that probably wasn't _exactly_ what Hotch was doing, he was way too polite for that. But still. She was not pleased with this turn of events.

Looking up she excused herself from the rather boring conversation she'd been involved in with some guy from Denmark and went over to retrieve her dignity.

Steal my date . . . damn hussy. Get your own date!

Hotch was just about to ask Elsa if she wanted a drink when suddenly he smelled Emily's perfume and then she appeared at his side, wrapping herself around him.

"Hi, honey."

His lips twitched as he turned to look down at her. Then he immediately sobered up. He knew that look, he was in big trouble. Clearing his throat, he slipped his arm around her waist as he turned back to the woman Emily was shooting daggers at.

"Ah Elsa, this is Emily."

His eyes dropped down to the woman at his side, as he gave her a pleading 'don't hit her' look, "and Emily this is Elsa, we _just_ met here at the bar."

He had deduced from Emily's reaction that she didn't much like her 'date' chatting up anyone else either. Well . . . he huffed to himself . . . serves her right. She started it.

The two women shook hands and exchanged tight smiles. Then Elsa turned back to Hotch with a saucy grin and tucked her card into his jacket pocket.

"Nice meeting you Aaron. You call me if you're ever in Geneva." Then she shot a smirk at Emily and walked away.

Hotch tightened his hold around Emily's waist as he felt her start to lunge forward. He was quite sure to snatch the hair right off Elsa's head. His lips began to twitch again as he heard her mocking.

"_Nice meeting you Aaron." _

Jaw twitching she looked up at him, "seriously, were you picking up another chick with me like ten feet away?"

Horrified, he looked down at her, "NO! I wasn't," he rolled his eyes, "'picking up' anyone. I was standing here and she came up and started talking to me. And you," he gave her a scornful look, "were 'occupied' so I figured what the hell, I'd keep myself busy for a couple minutes."

She scowled at him, "I wasn't 'occupied,' I was being bored to tears by that man with the strange mole who came up and started talking to me about global wheat prices. I was WAITING for you to come back and rescue me and I look over to see you with some Swedish . . ." she stammered for a moment not wanting to say the word that came to mind, finally settling on, "FLOOZY!"

Hotch's mouth started to quiver and then he burst out laughing, "I'm sorry, did you just say 'floozy?' What are you seventy?"

Emily tried to glare at him but then her lips started to twitch.

"Well, I thought it was better than skank whore."

He snorted.

"Uh yeah, good call on that one," he pulled the business card back out of his pocket and held it up for her, "it would probably be best if you _didn't_ call the chief legal counsel for the UN Commission on the Status of Woman, a 'skank whore.'"

Her mouth quivering Emily looked back up, "gotta call 'em the way I see 'em."

They stared at each other for a moment with identical looks of amusement and then he looked around to make sure nobody from the bureau was in view before he pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry, I should have come back to get you. I just didn't know if you wanted to talk to that guy and I didn't want to be jerky if you did."

Leaning back she rolled her eyes, "did you really think I was going to leave with some other guy when I showed up with you?"

"Well," he sighed, "no, I didn't think you'd 'leave' with him. I just thought you might want to talk to him and I, _obviously_, would have been in the way."

It had not actually occurred to him that the guy would be boring and that she would have been waiting for him to come back.

Rubbing his arm Emily gave him a soft smile, "Hotch, I know that we're not dating, but really, I would NEVER start flirting with some other guy if I was out with you. Aside from it being incredibly rude, I do understand it would make you look kind of . . ."

She trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought. Hotch finished it for her as he said drily, "kind of like a ball less wonder. Yeah, that's pretty much what I felt like."

Her eyes crinkled, "I'm sorry," she sighed, "so basically we both got irritated with the other for absolutely no reason whatsoever."

Hotch nodded, "yeah, that's pretty much it." He ran his hand down her arm as his lip quirked up, "if nothing else I do think we've both put in our quota of 'mingling' for the evening so how about one more glass of wine and then a quick trip around the dance floor on the little death traps before we get out of here?"

He knew she liked to dance and he also knew her shoes were killing her, which was why she hadn't dragged him out there yet.

She smiled. The man could read her mind like an open book. Her eyes crinkled as she slipped her arm through his.

"Sounds like a plan."

/*/*/*/

"Isn't that your mother?"

Emily turned in the direction Hotch gestured. They had just finished their second glass of wine and she was about to tug him onto the dance floor.

Oh crap!

That _was_ her mother. Of course, why wouldn't she be here? These are her people. Emily quickly tucked her head down against Hotch. Of course hiding herself behind him really wasn't going to work if he didn't stop moving them towards that part of the room. She squeezed his arm.

"I want to leave."

He stopped walking as he looked down at her in concern, "are you sick?"

Shaking her head she looked up at him with a touch of panic, "no, I just want to go."

Oh God Hotch, please don't ask me questions right now.

Hotch stared at her for a second, she was acting very strangely. Then he nodded slowly, "okay, well, let's just say hi to your mother and then we'll leave."

She vehemently shook her head, "no, I want to go _now_."

Wrinkling his brow he looked down at her in confusion, "Emily it would be rude to just leave. We have to say hello, and it'll only take a minute." He started to turn away but then he felt her fingers dig into his arm and he looked down to see that her eyes were watering.

"Aaron _please_, please can we just go?"

He stared at her, saw the pain in her eyes, and he felt a corresponding pain in his chest. His brow creased in concern as he nodded, running his hand up and down her back, "of course," he pulled her close, "of course we can go if that's what you want."

She nodded against his chest, "thank you."

Hotch looked down at her again, she was blinking away the tears. Whatever the hell was going on with her and her mother right now, it was clearly above and beyond the usual. And she definitely hadn't said anything to him about it. The last time her mother had been mentioned was the last summer vacation she'd cancelled. Nothing since.

He tucked her under his side and then dropped his head down slightly as they cut through the crowd. Given that Emily didn't wish to say hello to her mother it was really best that the Ambassador not see him either.

It would be a little awkward if Emily dove under the tablecloth and he was left standing there.

When they got back out to the main entrance hall he started to go towards the exit but Emily stopped with a wince.

"Actually, I really need to go to the bathroom before we leave. I'll be right back."

Stupid girl bladder, sabotaging her quick exit.

Squeezing her hand, he nodded, "okay, I'll wait here." Hotch looked around and decided he'd be a little less conspicuous if he moved over by the coat check.

They split up and just as Emily turned the corner she ran smack dab into her father.

She looked up in astonishment, "dad!" For some reason it hadn't occurred to her that with her mother here, her father might be too. The last time they spoke he was in Geneva.

"PUMPKIN!"

Richard Prentiss' face lit up as he stepped forward to pull his daughter into a hug, "what a wonderful surprise!" Stepping back, he held onto her hand as he smiled proudly, "honey you look absolutely beautiful. The prettiest girl in the room."

Emily gave him an affectionate smile, "thanks daddy."

Her father always thought she looked beautiful. Even when she had braces and bad perms and a huge zit on the end of her nose, he had always told her she was the prettiest girl in the room. But she figured as a dad, that was his job.

And who knows . . . her face softened as he squeezed her fingers . . . maybe he really did always mean it.

He tipped his head, "so what are you doing here?" He winked, "got a hot date?"

Lips twitching she rolled her eyes, "no dad, no," she mimed air quotes, "'hot date.' I'm here with my boss. This was a mandatory attendance for him and I'm keeping him company."

Richard Prentiss's eyes widened in interest, "oh, the famous Agent Hotchner," he started looking over her head, "where is he? I'd like to say hello."

Both his daughter and his wife had spoken well of him over the years. He felt like he knew the man. And he'd heard excellent things about him through his contacts at Justice. He had of course had him checked out. Both prior to his review of his wife's security back in the 90s, and then again before his baby girl started working for him. He'd been very impressed with how far he'd moved up the chain in just a decade.

But beyond just the surface facts, Richard had also delved deeper. Hearing some of the darker stories about things that had happened, and how he had handled them. Though many fathers would have been troubled by those stories, Richard was not most fathers. He had been pleased to find out that in addition to Aaron Hotchner being a described as having a brilliant mind and impeccable integrity, he was by all accounts, a very dangerous man.

Cold. Hard. Ruthless.

Those were the words he'd heard over and over. And that's exactly what Richard wanted in a leader for his daughter. They were chasing down monsters. People who committed unspeakable acts. He didn't want her being led by some sap who rode a desk and had never fired his weapon or had blood on his hands.

Those kinds of leaders got their people killed.

Emily looked around nervously, hoping her mother wasn't about to also make a surprise appearance, "uh, actually he's waiting out front for me. We're just on our way out. I'm feeling a little nauseous."

It wasn't a lie at all. She was slightly queasy. And the longer they were there and there was a possibility of running into her mother, the more nauseous she felt. Though she still felt a slight stab of guilt because she was leading her father to believe that's why they were leaving. When in actuality it was just because she was avoiding her mother like she was carrying the plague.

He immediately stepped closer and put his hand up to feel her forehead, "are you getting sick?"

It didn't matter how old she got, she said she didn't feel well, and she might as well be four years old again.

Emily's eyes crinkled, "no daddy, just a little stomachache," she wrinkled her nose, "probably the champagne. We ran into the section chief and she made us drink a glass. And you know I don't like it very much."

Her father knew exactly why she didn't like champagne. When she was fourteen he'd found her throwing up behind the embassy in Kiev. She'd been sneaking flutes of champagne off the tray as they went around the room. The fifth one hit her stomach and she headed for the back door. He didn't even yell at her. He just cleaned her up and put her to bed, pulling up the covers as he whispered in her ear, "we won't tell your mother." Then he gave her a sad smile before he kissed her forehead and left the room to go back to the party.

That was one of a thousand moments from Emily's childhood that had solidified her relationship with her father as the one with her mother was constantly splintering beneath her. And that was ironic because most children would have been more resentful of the parent that was away. And her father was away ALOT. But they made the most of the time they had when he was around. She supposed her relationship was kind of like Hotch's was with Jack. It's not the amount of time you spend together, it's what you do with the time you do have.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear, he gave her a sad smile, "okay honey, well then you go home and rest." Then his eyes crinkled, "you want to try to have dinner this week? I'm in town until Sunday."

Her face brightening, she nodded, "yeah, I'd like that," then her enthusiasm was tempered slightly as she tipped her head, "well, you know, provided we don't have a case."

Her father snorted, "my how the roles have reversed," he raised his eyebrow, "you're not going to start singing Cat Steven's to me are you?"

Emily's lips twitched, "Cat's in the Cradle dad, really?" She shook her head sadly as she sighed, "you're definitely showing your age."

Groaning, he rolled his eyes, "don't remind me, my baby's gonna be forty."

She snorted, "uh, yeah dad, I know, that's me. I'm your baby. _I'm_ the one that's going to be forty."

His lip quirked up, "smart ass." And he wouldn't have her any other way. She was a tough cookie.

Leaning forward she kissed his cheek in penance, then smiled as she wiped away her lipstick, "hmm, I wonder who I get that from." His eyes crinkled and she stepped back, starting to turn around the way she came, "okay, I have to get going." Then she felt the blush rise on her face as she turned back to him with a sheepish grin, "oh wait, I forgot, I have to go to the bathroom."

Chuckling, her father pulled her forward, kissing her forehead before he tucked her under his arm.

"Oh honey I miss you. Come on, bathroom's this way. That's where I was going too."

He walked her down the hall and when they got to the ladies room he turned to her, "okay, we'll I hope you feel better pumpkin, and you tell your Agent Hotchner that I wanted to say hello but that you wouldn't allow it. And please make sure that you tell the story exactly that way Emily because you know eventually I will meet the man, and I will ask."

Her eyes crinkled as she reached up to pat his cheek, "yes dad I promise. And I'll call you tomorrow about dinner. Maybe Monday or Tuesday if we're in town."

He nodded, that's sounds good." Then he stared at her, for a moment just reveling in seeing her pretty face, so much like her mother's. And then the darker thoughts began to enter his mind and his features hardened.

"You keep your weapon clean?"

Instantly straightening up, she nodded firmly, "yes, sir." This was a regular drill. She knew he worried.

His eyes narrowed, "and if someone comes up behind you . . ."

"Shot with the elbow to the gut, followed immediately by the back of my fist connecting with his nose. If all goes to plan two seconds later he should be writhing on the ground in agony with my foot on his throat and my nine millimeter in his face."

The FBI might have given her formal training, but her father had taught everything she knew about incapacitating a man under any attack situation. He started teaching her basic defensive moves when she was eight, by the time she was fourteen she could flip the Marines that her father drafted for training classes. Though she was too young back then to understand, she'd come to realize as she got older why he was so obsessed with her safety. He was worried his job may make her a target. Basically, he just wanted to make sure that if something ever happened that she would have a fighting chance. But whatever the reasons behind it, he gave her a wonderful gift.

Independence.

She could take care of herself. Defend herself. That's why she had chosen the work that she had, he had taught her to be strong. And that was a gift she would never be able to repay.

His eyes crinkled, "good girl." He touched her cheek as he said sadly, "you be careful pumpkin."

He knew the dangers of her job much more intimately than her mother did. And he wished she had chosen another line of work. Not that his worries diminished his pride. He followed her cases more closely than she knew, and he couldn't be more proud of her.

She felt her eyes begin to sting, "you too daddy."

He would sometimes disappear for months and she would wonder if this would be the time he didn't come home. The time that he just . . . disappeared. And then she'd get a phone call or an email, in the past a letter, and her breathe would come a little easier again. That was until the next time he went away.

Winking, he gave her a sly smile, "always." He stared at her for a moment before leaning forward to kiss her forehead, "and you tell Agent Hotchner that I hold him personally responsible for your safety."

Blinking away the tears she quirked up her lip, "Hotch takes good care of me dad." She smiled, "he even made me get a remote entry button for my new car because he said it was safer when I was by myself at night."

Emily's father quickly schooled his features. He looked at his daughter for a moment with no expression.

Her boss was picking out features for her car. That was . . . telling. And he was correct, she should have the remote entry, that was safer. That's what he would have picked out for her too. Clearly this man was genuinely concerned with her safety.

Richard knew Emily could take care of herself better than most women, probably better than many men. But she was still a woman. And physically vulnerable in ways that even the weakest of men were not. There were so many horrors in the world that most people don't see. Choose not to see. And his daughter, like he himself, had also chosen a line of work that threw her right in the path of those horrors. If she had someone now, someone who was strong and could make her stronger, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He was very curious about this relationship.

He bit his lip, but he knew his daughter. She did not like to discuss her personal life. Too many years of having it put under a microscope. So he would keep most of his questions to himself, and just ask the only one that really mattered.

"He has your back?"

She nodded firmly, "always."

He nodded, "okay then," he stared at her for a moment, before pulling her into a hug, "it was good seeing you pumpkin."

Feeling her eyes start to burn again Emily squeezed her father back tightly, "you too dad."

Though her parents lived only a few towns away she hardly ever saw them. She and her mother were still working to make an amicable relationship. And her father, between her travel and his, they could go months. She missed him, and worried about him, but usually in an abstract way. Because she had trained herself at a young age to detach from the pain and the sadness.

Those emotions made you vulnerable . . . they made you weak.

But then when she saw him again, she'd feel a sense of loss, time slipping past them. And all the years they were losing that they weren't going to get back. It saddened her. And she gave him one last look before she turned to push the bathroom door open.

After Emily went into the ladies room and her father stood in the hall for a second, debating. You didn't spy on your family, that was a rule in the agency. But he was a little concerned about her relationship with her boss. He decided to just observe, make sure things were okay, that this man that he'd heard good things about was worthy of any affection from his daughter. And it was clear from her tone, her affection for him was great. That was not the same tone she'd used in discussing him in the past. She'd always spoken well of him but not in the same way.

So feeling slightly like a heel even as he did it, he slipped back out to the lobby, scanning the crowd until he saw a very serious looking man that matched the file photos Richard had seen in the past.

Supervisory Special Agent-in-Charge Aaron Francis Hotchner.

Richard slipped around the crowd, getting closer to him. Hotchner had never seen him before. Or if he had it was perhaps in family photos back in the 90s. He'd never recognize him now. So tucking himself behind one of the sculptures in the corner closest to him, he then waited for his daughter to return. And when she did a few minutes later she headed straight over to her boss who looked down at her with concern. Richard was close enough to hear him ask her, "are you all right Emily?" Then he took her hand, "you look like you've been crying." And she shook her head, "I'm okay, I ran into my dad," she sniffed, "I just forget how much I miss him until I see him again."

Richard felt a stab of guilt in his heart for all he must have put her through over the years. But then he watched as this man, this hard, cold man he'd heard so many stories about, killers he'd caught, men he himself had killed, softened instantly as he pulled her against him and whispered something in her ear. Then she nodded, pulling back and touching his face.

And in that moment her father knew two things, this man was worthy of her affection, and no matter how good his intentions, he had no right to spy on his daughter. She was a grown woman, old enough to make her choices without them being questioned. And she seemed to have chosen well. So as long as this man kept his baby safe, and it was obvious from how he was looking at her that he had no intention of letting anyone hurt her, then all the rest didn't matter.

Though he did not plan to share his observations here tonight with her mother. Their relationship was strained, more so the past month but Elizabeth wouldn't tell him why. But it was obvious something had happened. Things had always had been difficult for them, and it pained him to see it. It was like splitting his heart in two, he could never choose sides. He could see the world as they both it. And he knew, he had no doubt, as he saw his daughter in the arms of her boss . . . her mother would not approve. It would be one more wedge.

And whatever the nature of her relationship was with this man, his daughter deserved to have someone who cared deeply for her, someone who would keep her safe. And that's what Richard saw in front of him.

He watched as they walked out, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder. After they disappeared from view he stared at the doorway for a moment. And then he turned and he went off to find his wife.

_A/N 2: So I really like Em's dad now. So much so that I feel like a real schmuck for killing him over in Horses. I know I'm sort of due for an update on that story but something about writing a story that has_ _a catastrophic plane crash at its center, right after a real life catastrophic plane crash, it's just a little creepy. But, maybe next week._

_I don't really have any plans to pull her parents in again but you never know. According to Girl canon, Hotch doesn't meet her father until he and Emily are living together in The Hours. Also, Emily's mother doesn't find out about their relationship until then either so if the folks do turn up again, it would be rather peripheral. We have her dad's observations and he approves. And hopefully it was clear, the echoing thoughts from Hotch on his career and Emily's dad on leaders who are worth their salt. I also deliberately echoed the CIA policy of not spying on your family, going with the BAU's not profiling your family. Really, between Em and her dad, Em's mom poor mom probably doesn't have any secrets left. I liked the idea of having Emily's father be the reason that she does the work she does. Because there really is no explanation for it in the show. She's from a privileged background and she chose a career in law enforcement, specifically wanted to work the ugliest of cases, clearly more than capable of taking care of herself and there's no canon on how that came to be. But most often your parents influence, positively or negatively, the choices you make.  
_

_Speaking of family members, we'll meet Hotch's brother in a couple weeks. Hotch takes Emily to New York for her birthday! And if you'll recall, when the brother was injured in a car accident in August, that's where he lives._

_Yes, there was a little bit of jealousy here but not 'real' jealousy. It was for the reasons stated. It's not cool to have your 'date' picking up another guy/girl right in front of you. Not that was what either of them were doing, but the irritation would have been understandable. _

_One chapter for after they get home. Yes, we will find out what's up with Em and her mom._

_Next: "__**The Gingerbread Girl**__"_


	88. The Gingerbread Girl

**Author's Note**: Last Gala chapter. The gala ended up topping out at twenty thousand words. All covering one four hour period of time. I think that's a record for this story.

And props to my girl Arc for noticing I put an actual PB quote into the science experiment chapter. Emily calls Hotch a 'cutie pie' and PB used that phrase to describe the guest star for Paradise. And if I in any way paid attention to pop culture anymore I might be able to tell you what the actor's name was. Though I'm sure most of you probably know who I mean.

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_Late September: Friday_

**The Gingerbread Girl**

Emily moaned as she flopped down on the couch, untying the straps of her heels before she kicked them off.

"My God! My feet are KILLING me!

Pouting she started rubbing her foot, "I hardly ever wear heels anymore and once you get out of the habit of it, you really pay for it."

She was probably going to have to wear sneakers for the rest of the weekend.

Hotch dropped his suit jacket on the armchair before coming over and sitting down next to her on the couch. He looked at her, then down at her feet, and then back up at her before he patted his leg.

"Come on, let me see 'em."

Emily looked over hopefully, "really?"

His eyes crinkled, "yeah, as thanks for coming with me." Eh, he knew he would have done it anyway.

Her eyes lit up. Wow, she hadn't had a foot rub in . . . well, she didn't know if she'd ever had a foot rub. Certainly not one post the removal of three inch heels that were only invented as torture devices against vain western women. She slid over until she was leaning against the arm of the couch and then swung her feet up and put them in Hotch's lap.

As he started pressing his thumb along the arch of her foot she moaned again. This time a completely different pitch, and as he worked his way down her foot it was followed by another moan and then, "oh my GOD Hotch, that feels SO good!" she groaned, "hit that again right there." Hotch started to laugh, and he dropped her foot back down in his lap, "okay, I can't do this if you're going to make those sounds," he gave her a bemused look, "they're _very_ distracting."

Blushing slightly, Emily giggled, "sorry, I just wasn't expecting it to feel THAT good," she smirked, "but I promise if you will please continue, I will restrain my enthusiasm."

Yeah, making sex noises while Hotch rubs her feet probably isn't the best way to go. But God damn! Hotch's hand on her foot was actually _better_ than the sex she had with her last semi-boyfriend. So that was either 'wow, go Hotch' or 'wow, Larry was a bigger loser than she realized.' She tipped her head, probably a bit of both.

Lips twitching Hotch looked over at her suspiciously. She gave him a sheepish smile and did the little cross your heart thing. So he picked up her foot again, eyeing her as he began to rub it. He was ready to drop it immediately if she started making those noises and yelling his name like that again.

Platonic relationship or not, that just hits a guy right in the _wrong_ part of the anatomy.

As he worked his way down her foot once more he looked over at her again, she was leaning back on the cushion with her eyes shut. She looked content, but, she was quiet. As long as she was quiet everything would be fine. He looked back down to her foot and frowned as he saw the red marks where the strap had cut into her skin. He soothed his thumb gently over the indentation, looking up to see if that bothered her. Her eyes were still closed but he heard her sigh. He figured that must feel better so he ran his finger along the mark, pressing lightly as he went along.

He shook his head in bewilderment as he continued to massage the tight muscles. Feeling the tension, and seeing the marks on her feet, he just couldn't understand how the hell she was able to walk in those heels tonight. They were ridiculous. She had been almost as tall as him, and that was just strange. He was used to a certain height differential. It was like having an unfamiliar body in his arms. His lip quirked up, well, not unfamiliar, he'd know her in the dark.

And wow . . . his eyes popped . . . did _that_ sentence sound bad. He shook his head to shake a very _un_platonic thought that had been in advertently conjured up.

He shifted his eyes back down, though he would grant that the heels made her legs look fantastic. But . . . his gaze traveled up the silhouette in front of him . . . her legs always looked fantastic.

It wasn't until this past summer he even really realized she had legs. She'd always worn pants at work. But he'd discovered when they started hanging out that she wore shorts pretty regularly on the weekend. And she'd just starting wearing sundresses. His eyes crinkled as he pictured her. She looked cute in the little cotton dresses, but she usually wore those girly sneakers with them. So she certainly didn't need the damn heels to look cute.

There was a point much earlier in their relationship where he might have thought being consciously aware of her physical attractiveness was a problem. But then he realized it would have been _more_ of a problem if he wasn't aware of it. Like he was trying to overcompensate by pretending that she wasn't what she obviously was.

A beautiful woman.

Just because they didn't have a sexual relationship, that didn't mean he wasn't still a heterosexual male and capable of appreciating the female form. And . . . he glanced down at her legs again . . . Emily had a very nice form. If anything he lucked out. He didn't just have to look, he was allowed to touch too.

His lip quirked up, well, some of it.

Speaking of touching, as he was switching from one foot to the other he noticed something and he snorted, "hey, your feet are the same size as my hands."

Emily opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows, "they are?"

Holding her foot up, he placed his hand against the bottom, "see, same size." His lips twitched as she gave him an adorable look of befuddlement before she asked, "does that mean that I have freakishly large feet or you have freakishly small hands? Because both of those seem like they'd be a real problem."

Mouth twitching, he started to rub her other foot, "given that society has not yet shunned us alleging any gross disfigurement, I am relatively sure both of our extremities are of appropriate proportion for our body type."

Scrunching up her brow, Emily nodded as she leaned back, "I guess you're right." She was quiet for a moment before she sighed with mock sadness, "that's too bad though, I could have made some extra cash on the sideshow circuit." He huffed, "yet another dream denied."

With a very unladylike snort Emily leaned back and closed her eyes again.

Pushing the skirt of her dress aside, Hotch started working his way up her foot to her calf. She'd been complaining about her calves in the cab. Though he figured that made sense with the three inch tall heels.

Hotch worked his way up to her knee before he stopped suddenly and felt the blush begin to rise on his face. He'd just realized he'd pushed her dress all the way up to her thighs. Granted, it was only slightly above the knee, but still, he had no idea how far he would have gone before he'd noticed the garter belt.

Emily opened one eye and looked down, "why'd you stop?"

Giving her a sheepish look, he gestured down to her legs, "uh, I went a little higher than I was planning."

He quickly pulled her dress back down as he muttered, "sorry," then he moved a bit further away from her so he was sitting on the opposite side of the couch. He could still feel the warmth on his cheeks so he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to will it away.

God!

That was just, in Emily's vernacular, not cool! You don't push a woman's dress up almost to her waist unless you have other activities in mind.

Her mouth quivering Emily sat up and looked at him. She hadn't even thought anything of where her dress was. It's not like he was flipping it over her head. It was just bunched up around her knees, not at all indecent. He hadn't even touched her above her calves.

Granted, any higher and that would have started to be somewhat sexual, but really her calf muscles were so sore from the damn shoes she wasn't even thinking about anything like that. And clearly he wasn't either. Not if he freaked out that much when he realized what he'd done.

Looking over at him at first she thought it was funny he was so embarrassed. Hotch was hardly ever flustered so this was a notable event. But then her face softened. All the times she'd done something silly or embarrassing he'd never laughed at her. He just pretended like it was no big deal.

So she'd do the same thing for him.

Moving down the couch, she grabbed the remote off the coffee table before curling up next to him and putting her head on his shoulder. Then she handed him the remote, "here why don't you find us something to watch."

She knew he liked having control of the clicker, it was a guy thing, hopefully that would make him feel better.

Hotch looked down at Emily a little warily, seeing if she was bothered about what he'd done. But she didn't seem put off. Huh. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought.

After all . . . his brow wrinkled . . . he hadn't seen anything, or touched anything he wasn't supposed to be seeing or touching. It was just her leg. He'd touched her legs before. Many times actually. It's just usually he wasn't the one that was 'exposing' them. But he realized that was the only difference between the touching tonight and on any other day. Okay, maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal. He should just forget it happened. And with that decision made he turned on the television and started flipping channels, finally settling on PBS. Five minutes later he felt Emily shiver next to him and he looked down with concern.

"You cold?"

Nodding against his shoulder she smiled, "yeah. My dress really isn't warm enough to sit around in."

His eyes crinkled, "well then why don't you go take it off and put on your pajamas?"

Not that he didn't very much enjoy seeing her in her new dress, but he didn't want her to get sick.

Shifting her eyes up she gave him a sheepish smile, "because it's pretty and I never get to wear pretty things anymore," her eyes dropped down to the folds of iridescent silk bunched in her lap. Fingering the material she said softly, "our world's too ugly for things like this."

Hotch's expression softened and he reached over and grabbed his jacket off the chair, wrapping it around her shoulders. Then he patted his thigh, "move over," he flashed her a dimple, "you'll be warmer."

She gave him a soft smile as then crawled into his lap, tucking her head in the curve of his neck as she pulled her knees up against her chest, making herself into a little ball. He wrapped his arms completely around her, rubbing her arms and her legs, taking away the chill until she relaxed slightly, settling against him as she murmured, "much better thanks."

Sighing he looked down at the silk fabric draped over both of them. He reached down to touch it, feeling the soft texture, appreciating its beauty. Then his eyes shifted to her wrapped up in his coat.

Their beauty was nothing compared to hers.

He rested his cheek against her hair as he whispered, "Emily you're what takes the ugliness out of my world."

It was true. She was now what he focused on when things got bad. That's why he partnered up with her all the time now. Some days her presence was all he had to keep him from falling into the abyss.

Her eyes began to sting, she didn't know what to say. There are no words to respond to a statement like that. She moved her head slightly over to kiss his jaw, hopefully that would be enough.

They sat in silence. The only sounds those coming from the television. It was PBS, running an old Frontline. Emily had seen it before, they had made it for the first anniversary of 9/11. It was about faith, and grief and loss and as she listened to these people, and remembered that day, suddenly her own problems started to feel very small. She cleared her throat, "I know you're wondering about my mother. Why I didn't want to see her," she paused, "we had a fight, a big one a couple weeks ago." She fell silent and Hotch picked up her hand as he whispered, "about the vacation?"

She nodded, "we were having dinner, and she was talking about that function, the one she canceled our family trip to attend. And I just got so angry, it just came up out of nowhere and I started yelling, 'why aren't dad and I ever as important to you as your job. Why can't you ever put us first?" her voice trailed off, "why couldn't you ever be a good mother?'"

The last one came out on a whisper and still Hotch winced.

Emily felt her eyes begin to burn, "and that was such an awful thing to say," her tears started to spill over, "and I don't know how to take it back. She was a good mother. I mean we've always had our problems. But she tries, she's always tried, she's just wired differently. And she can't help that. But I know she loves me, and she was good to me, and she gave me so many opportunities I never would have had otherwise. And I said that terrible thing and I could see how badly I'd hurt her," her sniffled, "and I still didn't apologize, because I was just so angry, so angry and so hurt, and for just a second, I wanted her to be hurt too."

She turned her face into his chest, "and now I don't know what to do. We haven't spoken since. And we'd started emailing regularly last year, trying to make more of an effort to keep a part of each other's lives. We both knew it would be easier that way because there would be less chance of us fighting if we just exchanged letters."

When Hotch started rubbing her back her finally voice broke, "the longer it goes, the worse it is and I don't know what to do Aaron," the tears ran down her face, "I don't know how to fix it!"

Sighing, he pulled her closer as she cried in his arms. He wished she'd told him sooner. Obviously this had been weighing on her and he might have been able to help. He rubbed circles on her back as he whispered, "shhh, it's okay. You can fix it Emily. You just have to say you're sorry."

Emily sniffed against his chest, "but what if that doesn't work?"

He kissed her temple before he said softly, "I promise she'll forgive you. She's your mother, she loves you." He tucked her hair back behind her ear, "and if it's too hard to say it in person, then email her. Tell her how you feel, tell her why you said it, and tell her why you couldn't take it back."

Emily leaned back to look at him and he had a stab in his chest as he saw the streaks of mascara on her face. He reached up to wipe them away as he said softly, "maybe this was for the best. You've always a difficult relationship, maybe this will help air some things out. I can't imagine you've ever told her before how you felt, I mean really felt."

Her head dropped down, "no, usually we just fight, but never about what the real problem is."

"Okay then," he kissed her forehead, "take this as an opportunity. Try and make it better."

She settled back against his chest, quiet for a moment and then she nodded, "you're right," she sniffed once more as she wiped one more stray tear from the corner of her eye, "it's already a mess. I probably can't make it any worse by just telling her how I feel."

He kissed the top of her head, "exactly, and hopefully it'll help in the long run," he sighed, "and even if it doesn't, at least you'll feel better because you'll know you made the effort. Because I know you Emily, the longer this goes, the more the guilt's going to eat at you. You need to make amends so you can let it go."

Leaning back she patted his cheek, "how'd you get so smart?" his eyes crinkled, "my wisdom comes from my additional years on the planet. When you're my age," he quirked his lip up, "you'll know everything too."

She smiled softly, "ah, but you'll always be older." His lips twitched "exactly, that means you always have to listen to me because I'll always be right."

Snorting she put her head back down on his chest, "in your dreams buddy." She rubbed her hand on his shoulder, "you're only _officially_ right at work. Off the clock, all bets are off."

He huffed and put his chin on her head, "so aside from that run-in did you have a good time tonight?"

To his surprise he'd actually, for the most part, enjoyed himself. The food was good, and Emily was always good company. Plus there was his science experiment. His eyes crinkled, that was fun.

Emily smiled, "I did actually. I used to hate those parties when I was a kid but it was fun to get dressed up," she looked up with a little grin, "speaking of fun stuff, there's something I want to do like once a month but I kind of need you to do it with me."

His lips twitched, "uh, I really like you as a friend Emily but I think I'm going to have to pass."

She smacked his chest, "not that you jerk." He chuckled, "okay I'm sorry, what do you want to do?" Then he added with a scowl, "and we're not taking ballroom dancing lessons or anything like that so if that's the idea then let it go."

Her mouth quivered at the image of Hotch doing the tango with a rose in his teeth, and then she shook her head, "no, nothing like that." She looked up at him hopefully, "do you think maybe every couple months we could hit one of the embassy parties? You know the open invitation ones? It was fun getting dressed up and doing something completely frivolous," she gave him a sheepish smile, "plus, my dress was kind of expensive and I really need to wear it again or I'm going to burn in hell for all eternity."

Hotch stared at her for a moment, thinking about what that would entail before he nodded, "yeah, I think we could do that every couple months." His lip quirked up, "I should probably try to get some use out of the tux too. I had to buy a new one and it was also kind of expensive. I lost my other one in the move."

And he'd figured for the general A list quality of functions he usually had to wear it to, he should invest in something high end. A good suit costs a couple hundred but he'd forgotten how expensive formalwear was. He'd only bought one tux previous to this one. That was like six years ago and he was making considerably less money then. So the dig on his wallet had been a little deeper. It was a nice tuxedo but it was probably time for a new one anyway. And he certainly wasn't going to call Haley up and ask if she could look around the house for the old one.

Yeah that would have been great, 'hey I'm going to a formal gala with another woman could you maybe find my evening wear. Have that pressed for me. Thanks.'

He rolled his eyes, she probably would have sent it to him as a little box of ashes.

Emily ran her fingers down the lapel of his jacket, feeling the smooth material. It was _really_ nice, then she giggled.

"So basically we're sitting around on the couch wrinkling up like a thousand dollars worth of clothes."

Hotch looked at her for a second and then snorted, "yes, apparently that is exactly what we're doing Mrs. Rockefeller."

Biting her lip she smiled at him and then pushed back and slid her feet to the floor.

"Come on, let's go change before I spill something on one of us. You left some stuff here the last time you were over. I put it on the bed in the guest room."

Hotch's eyes twinkled as they stood up, "so basically now I'm like Jack, I have a room at your house for weekend sleepovers. Did you get me the race car bed he wanted? If so he's going to be jealous."

Taking his hand Emily laughed as they started walking towards the stairs, "well, sorry, no. I didn't get you the race car bed. But if you want to go 'vroom, vroom' there are a couple of matchbox cars up there," her eyes crinkled as she turned to him, "I found them in your pocket when I was doing the laundry."

Tilting his head he stopped to look at her, "you did my laundry?"

She shrugged, "eh, it was just a couple more things to throw in with mine."

Though it was kind of weird seeing guy stuff mixed in with hers. But bonus! She'd stolen one of his t-shirts! It was an old Academy one and she knew he had a few of them so he'd never miss it. This one was all soft and worn in. It was more comfortable for sleeping.

His lip quirked up as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, "thanks, that was nice of you."

When they got upstairs, she handed him his jacket before they separated as she went into her room to change and he continued down to the guest room. And there sitting next to the pillow, neatly folded, were a pair of khakis, a pair of pajama pants, a couple white t-shirts, and to his amusement, two pairs of boxers. For a second he was thinking that they were a cumulative supply of clothing. But then he saw the small nylon bag next to it and realized what had happened.

Last week he'd been digging around in his ready bag looking for clean socks and he ended up putting his bag of dirty laundry on the floor. He must have forgotten to put it away again. His face softened, and rather than just giving him back the whole bag she just washed his clothes for him. That was sweet. He picked up the t-shirt on the top of the pile and brought it to his face . . . he smiled.

It smelled like Emily.

He put it back down on the bed and quickly changed out of his dress shirt and tux and slipped on the pajama pants. He already had on a t-shirt. Then he looked down at the suit on the bed and realized he really should hang it up. And just as that thought came to him he heard a knock on the open door.

"Hey I brought you a hanger."

Hotch turned around to see Emily had washed off her makeup and was standing in her flannel pajamas holding up a hanger for him. He took it out of her hand and then his lips twitched as he looked at the flannel material.

"Are those Hello Kitty pajamas?"

He actually did know who Hello Kitty was. It had been a huge fad when he was a teenager and all the girls back then had gone crazy for it.

Emily felt her face getting a little warm, "I was cold and these were the only warm ones I could find. Most of my winter stuff is put away."

It hadn't occurred to her that she might look a little goofy wearing cartoon character pajamas. She'd bought them on a lark a couple months ago. That's why they were in her drawer.

His face softened as he squeezed her fingers, "I wasn't making fun," his eyes crinkled, "you look cute."

She huffed, "thanks," then her lip quirked up, "they had boxers too. You want me to get you a pair?" She snorted at the look on his face.

"So that's a no?"

He felt the eyebrow was response enough so he turned away, putting his tux on the hangar before stepping behind the door to put the hangar on the hook. Then his gaze shifted over to Emily and just before he opened his mouth to ask if she was hungry, he heard her stomach growl.

His mouth quivered, "pizza?"

She grinned, "uh, huh."

He took her hand and they started back down the hall. When they got to the landing he turned to her.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you, I got tickets to the circus for tomorrow. I know you usually just meet us in the park but I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?"

Emily's face lit up, "I'd love to go to the circus with you guys!"

He gave her a relieved smile, "good because I already bought your ticket."

She laughed as they continued down the stairs. He was so cute.

"Well good thing I'm free. You would have had to find some other girl to make fun of you all afternoon."

His lips twitched as he looked over at her, "I think it's already been established that I have no other girls."

"Oh yeah," she smirked, "and I'm thinking this isn't the kind of activity Strauss would enjoy."

He tipped his head, "eh, I already asked her, she said no."

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and Emily's mouth quivered as she turned to him. He flashed a dimple and her eyes crinkled.

So cute.

Turning back, she stepped onto the lowest stair so were of even height. That was the one bonus of the killer heels, she didn't have to get up on her tiptoes with him. She looked at him for a minute before wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I had fun tonight. Thank you for my flowers, and thank you for helping me with my mom."

Hotch slid his hands around her back and pulled her close as he said against her neck.

"Thank you for coming and thank you for participating in my science experiment."

He felt her huff and he smiled. He only smiled around Emily. Emily, and of course Jack.

The bits of light in his dark world.

And tomorrow they were going to the circus. His eyes crinkled, that should be fun.

Fun.

He huffed to himself, that wasn't previously a word he would use to describe any activity. He ran his hand down her back as his eyes crinkled. Well, he was happy to have had his vocabulary expanded.

Suddenly Emily's stomach growled again, breaking the moment, and Hotch chuckled. Leaning back, he looked down at her in amusement.

"I guess we still need to order that pizza, huh?"

She gave him a sheepish grin, "yeah, sorry. The shrimp was good but they weren't really filling."

He stared at her for a moment then he nodded as he took her hand and tugged her off the step.

"Okay pretty girl let's get you your pizza."

She snorted, "okay now you're just full of it. I'm wearing flannel Hello Kitty pajamas, and I took off all my makeup."

Hotch stopped and stared at her for a moment, "what's your point?" Then he winked as he squeezed her fingertips before letting go to go grab the phone off the counter.

Amused, Emily stared at him for a moment as he walked back to the living room. He was just like her dad. Telling her she was pretty no matter how awful she looked.

Her expression softened, he really was a sweetie. And good for her ego. Because she was getting older now and she'd discovered she wasn't turning quite as many heads as she used to. Not that she ever thought she was drop dead gorgeous or anything. But she'd always known, well . . . she tipped her head . . . after her God awful teen years she'd known, that she was attractive. Her self esteem issues had never extended to body dimorphic issues. Thank God. She was messed up enough back then.

She saw Hotch was just finishing ordering the pizza so she shook offer her musings as she went over to join him on the couch. Her eyes crinkled as she saw he'd grabbed a blanket from the basket. She knew that was for her. He was never cold.

Hotch dropped the phone on the table before looking up and smiling at her for a moment before he shifted to lie down on the couch. He put his hand up and she gave him a soft smile as she climbed on top of him. Sighing she lay her head on his chest as he pulled the blanket down from the back of the sofa and covered her up.

His eyes crinkled as he looked down at her, warm and snug and safe. He ran his fingers through her hair, and still so pretty. She always tried to deflect, but it was true. She didn't need the fancy dress. It just enhanced her beauty, it didn't create it. And he wished she could see what he saw. He knew she worried that she was getting old. That the . . . his eyes traveled to the flowers in front of him . . . bloom was off the rose. Sighing, he rubbed his hand down her back . . . silly girl.

Emily stared at her bouquet of blue roses, the gold wrapping paper shimmering in the water. Her face softened and she rubbed her hand across his chest . . . he remembered. She decided to save one of the flowers as a memento of today. She'd had more dark memories than light ones over the past few years. And when those darker memories came back, as they always did, it will be good to have something to pull out to remind her . . . somebody listens . . . somebody cares.

Hotch pressed his lips against her hair, listening to the smile in her voice as she whispered.

"This was a good day."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I'm not ANYWHERE near Hotch's age but Hello Kitty was big when I was little. And I was a big fan. When I was like six I had a little white canvas bag with blue handles. It had a big kitty on the side. It came with a pencil and pencil sharpener. Good stuff :)_

_Yes, Emily's stealing clothes. And her conscious mind is making excuses for her subconscious mind's behavior. But I think it's starting to become more obvious that their feelings for one another are deepening. You can also start to see a bit of the origins of Hotch's feelings about her being 'his girl'. He won't be using the possessive though for probably another month._

_And if you ever have the opportunity to see that Frontline, I highly recommend it. Faith & Doubt at Ground Zero. It's not political, it's more of a spiritual discussion about loss and life and death and what all of that does to your faith, or lack thereof. It's very well done. It's obviously very sad though. And given that they rerun it around the anniversary it would make sense that it would be on television if they were watching tv in September._

_I'm actually in good shape taking them through the next week. I think postings should be fairly consistent. There is a snippet finished for the circus, plus one for the antique shopping. They need to be polished but they exist and neither are tremendously long so they shouldn't be hard to clean up. Those are both the next day, 'Saturday.' Then we're moving into an 'event' on Wednesday which will lead to a story arc covering a chapter a day from then until that next Saturday._

_Next: "__**Love Under the Big Top**__"_


	89. Love Under the Big Top

**Author's Note**: Trip to the circus the day after the gala. This is just a snippet of their time there covering a specific incident. Obviously I could have written another ten thousand words on all the stuff you can do at the circus. But actually, I have a chapter planned for late October where they go to a carnival (which is slightly different than the circus) and I'm planning on using some of the more 'traditional' stuff you might be expecting in that one.

* * *

_Late September: Saturday_

**Love Under the Big Top**

"Uh oh!" Jack looked up in dismay, "Miss Emily I spill'ded it!"

Emily looked down to see the rapidly expanding puddle of blue slushy running down Jack's legs and onto the concrete floor beneath them. Then her gaze snapped back up to his little face.

And seeing the tears beginning to pool in his big brown eyes, she felt a stab of pain in her chest.

"Oh, it's okay baby!" she soothed while rubbing her hand down his back, "don't cry, it was just an accident."

Shaking her head in disgust at her own stupidity, Emily reached down to grab the still half full cup off of Jack's lap before it did any more damage.

It was her own fault, she should have been holding it for him. But it had a cover, and it wasn't _technically_ a liquid, so she hadn't been treating it like she would if he'd been holding a regular drink.

But of course, she sighed while placing the cup on the concrete floor, that was a rookie mistake.

One Hotch would not have made.

As Emily looked back up to Jack's face she saw the tears that had pooled were starting to spill over as his bottom lip began to quiver.

_Oh no! That was just too painful to bear!_

So she quickly shifted to pick him up, not caring about the mess of sticky blue ice still running down his legs. Or the disdainful stares of the people sitting around them. Screw them. They all had little kids with them too. Like none of their kids had ever spilled anything.

Please.

And as she squeezed Jack against her chest, she murmured in his ear, "sweetie don't cry. It was an accident. It's okay. We'll just go get another slushy after we get you cleaned up."

When Jack responded by wrapping his little arms around her neck as he sniffled, "but I wanted'ed that one," Emily felt her eyes began to sting.

She didn't know how to respond to little boy logic. She could get him another drink just like the first one, but she didn't know what to say to his lament about the first lost slushy.

The lost slushy that was making him so sad that she wanted to start crying herself.

Momentarily ignoring the lost slushy dilemma . . . she couldn't think of anything else to say right then . . . Emily slowly rubbed her hand up and down Jack's back as her eyes desperately searched the crowd for Hotch.

Ten minutes ago he'd been sent off for nachos, and this was the first time that Jack had had a mishap when she was watching him by herself.

And this was _definitely_ the first time that there had been crying of any kind when she had been watching him, with or without his father. Generally Jack was a happy little boy.

Yeah, sometimes he got a little cranky when he was tired, but hey, who doesn't? But she'd never seen him throw a tantrum or shed one tear for any reason.

So the crying now, that was completely unexpected. And it was _very_ upsetting. And if it didn't stop soon Hotch was going to come back to both of them in tears.

Just then Emily spotted the man in question coming up the arena stairs. He was holding a small bag.

Thank God!

Hotch's brow inched up when he saw Emily standing up while holding Jack in her arms.

Huh . . . he bit his lip . . . that probably wasn't anything good.

So he hurried the rest of the way up the steps, and when he reached their row, he started to open his mouth to ask what had happened . . . and that's when he spotted the puddle of icy blue water.

Ah, slushy spill.

And Jack turned his head and leaned it against Emily's cheek, Hotch could see the identical looks of distress on their faces over this development.

He felt a dig in his chest.

One of them being unhappy was bad enough, but two . . . he dropped his bag onto one of the folding chairs . . . well, that was intolerable.

"You have a little accident buddy?" Hotch asked gently while running one hand down Jack's back and the other down Emily's arm.

"Uh, huh," Jack sniffled again as he wiped his hand across his nose, "I spill'ded my slushy and Miss Emily said we could get a new one but, but," he took a shuddering breath, "I wanted'ed that one!"

At the dramatic gasping for air, a soft smile touched Hotch's lips.

He was familiar with the _'I wanted'ed that one._' It had come on the heels of lost ice cream cones in the past.

"It's okay pal," he murmured while kissing his son's forehead, "the new slushy will be just as good as the old one."

Hotch's eyes traveled over to Emily, he could see she was still upset. He knew for all of her behavioral training she didn't have any experience with the base trauma of a three year old that has lost a beloved treat. Perhaps he should add something to the manual.

So he squeezed her hand as he gave her a sympathetic smile.

"He's okay Emily. I'll just take him to the bathroom and get him cleaned up."

Emily felt a little better now that Hotch was back. He wasn't a rookie, he wasn't having a sympathy nervous breakdown over the spilled blue ice. She really hoped that someday she'd know how to handle these things better. But for now, she figured a slight panic was going to be her default mode until she got a better handle on this childcare stuff.

So after shifting Jack from her front to her hip, she leaned her head against his.

"I'll take him, I actually need to clean up myself."

Hotch looked down and seeing the bright blue stain on her shirt, his eyes widened.

Why did she pick him up when he was still dripping?

As Hotch looked up at her in confusion, Emily felt her face getting warm. She must look like an idiot. So tipping her head slightly she added sheepishly, "I know, but he was crying."

Hotch's expression softened as he stared at her for a moment.

Then he leaned forward to kiss her forehead, and as he pulled back he tucked her hair behind her ear.

"He's going to do that sometimes," he said while giving her a little smile, "he's three."

It was obvious to him how much she really did love his boy . . . it was very sweet.

"I know," Emily sighed as her eyes traveled over to Jack perched on her hip, "but . . ."

And she trailed off. Not knowing how to explain the visceral reaction she'd had in her gut to seeing him in pain. Even if it was just the pain of a lost slushy.

Which though it was nothing in the grand scheme, it was everything when you're three.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he touched Emily's cheek.

"I know," he huffed, "believe me I know."

It used to just be Jack's tears that tore a hole in his gut. But Hotch had found his gut response to Emily's tears was slowly escalating to the point that it was almost on par with Jack's.

Fortunately neither of them cried very often or he'd probably have an ulcer.

"Okay," he said while stepping back with a squeeze to her fingers, "well if you guys want to go get cleaned up, I'll wait here. Oh wait," he quickly added while moving to pull out his wallet. And then he flashed Emily a dimple as pulled out a ten.

"For the new and improved blue slushy."

Emily accepted Hotch's money with a soft smile.

"Thanks," then she turned to Jack and kissed his cheek, "come on honey, let's go get cleaned up."

Jack nodded against her shoulder, "'k Miss Emily."

As they began to move towards the stairs, Hotch watched them go with a pang in his chest that he couldn't place. Then he pulled the wipes out of the bag and turned back to start cleaning up the sticky mess on the seat.

/*/*/*/*

As soon as she walked into the bathroom, Emily wiped down the sink with a wet soapy paper towel. And only THEN, did she put Jack down on the now clean surface.

Given her previous nocturnal activities with his father, she knew the types of things that happened in public bathrooms. And God knows she wasn't letting Jack anywhere near anything where activities like _that _had taken place_. _

But fortunately by the time they got to the ladies room he had cheered up considerably. He was three and still had a short attention span even for great emotional traumas like the one he had just suffered. All she had to do was point out the clowns as they were walking down the hall and that was enough to get a giggle out of him. That was a giggle that was good for her soul.

God . . . she looked down at his sweet little face . . . she didn't know how she'd ever be a mother. Jack wasn't even hers and she reacted like this to his tears. What would she do if it was her child? A child that she loved. Then her brow wrinkled as she thought back to how she'd felt when he was crying.

And then she had a sudden realization. She _did_ love this child.

She loved Jack.

For a second she had a slight bit of panic as she thought about that. You couldn't go around falling in love with other people's children, because those children go away from you and then it breaks your heart.

But then she realized how stupid that thought was. He was her best friend's son. Hotch wasn't going anywhere. They weren't in a romantic relationship.

They wouldn't break up.

No . . . she smiled as she gently patted Jack's cheek and he grinned back at her . . . this was a new permanent addition. When she got Hotch, she got Jack.

Her eyes crinkled as she began washing his little fingers . . . buy one Hotchner get one free. She saw the tiny freckles on his nose and the crease of baby fat on his arm and she grinned.

Yeah, she definitely got a good deal there.

And after she had cleaned up his face and hands she looked down at his pants and her shirt.

Blue raspberry slushy.

Yeah . . . she huffed to herself . . . that stain wasn't coming out.

So she just wet some paper towels and started wiping off the sticky parts. When she saw the blue stains on Jack's sneaker she pulled it off to clean it.

A second later that was followed by the wet sock underneath. Then she tickled the bottom of his foot and he giggled. She started to laugh.

"He looks just like you."

Emily looked up to see a woman around her age smiling at them. Shaking her head Emily looked back at Jack, running her hand over one of his dimples, "actually he looks just like his daddy."

It wasn't until after the words were out of her mouth that she realized she had just inadvertently implied that she was Jack's mother. But before she could correct the impression, the woman looked at Jack with a small smile.

"Well you look like your mommy too."

Jack giggled again. "That's not mommy silly. That's Miss Emily."

Emily smiled, "that's right honey," she turned back to the woman, "yes, as I was about to say, I'm not his mother," she winked at Jack, "I'm Miss Emily."

The woman huffed as she started washing her hands, "ah, Miss Emily. I'm," her lip quirked up, "Miss Jolene." She turned around as a little girl around seven came out of the stall, "and this is my stepdaughter."

Emily's jaw dropped slightly . . . okay, she'd apparently gone from inadvertently claiming to be a doting mother to some weird 'stepmother' bonding.

Then she chuckled to herself . . . Hotch was going to enjoy this one. Maybe next she'll just claim to be a pre-op tranny who's really Jack's father. That should cover all the bases.

She opened her mouth to correct her again and then just said screw it.

What difference did it make really what this total stranger thought? She just hadn't wanted to leave her with the impression that she was Jack's mother. That seemed . . . wrong. He had a mother. And you don't claim possession of another woman's child.

So she fixed that.

The rest of it, well she supposed was kind of like her relationship with Hotch. Sometimes people assumed they were a couple. Hell, sometimes people assumed they were married! And she and Hotch didn't care either way. So why did she feel the need to explain the intricacies of her relationship with Hotch's son when she felt no such inclination to do so with Hotch himself?

As she thought about it, that was probably just because it was new. It was the first time this had happened. She remembered both she and Hotch had stumbled the first time people had made the wrong inference about their relationship. Then they said screw it. So she decide to say screw it to this one too. She just smiled at the little girl as she washed her hands before she turned back to her stepmother.

"She's a cutie."

The woman smiled proudly.

"Thanks, yours too," she said before she started drying off the little girls' hands.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she watched them for a second . . . they seemed happy together. It was nice to see that blended families could work.

Biting her lip she turned back to her own charge. She rinsed out Jack's artificially blue sock before rolling it into a paper towel and tucking it into her bag. Then she put his sneaker back on his foot. And as she laced up his shoe she slowly explained to him how to tie the knot.

"See, the rabbit goes into the hole, and pops out over here."

Jack clapped in delight. "Do it again Miss Emily!"

She started to laugh, and then figured what the hell. So she untied his shoe and did it again.

He was just as excited the second time around.

Emily's eyes crinkled as he grinned up at her with those adorable little dimples that were just like his daddy's.

With a sigh that she couldn't place, Emily picked Jack up off the counter. And when he threw his arms around her neck, she squeezed him tightly.

"Come on baby," she said with a pat to his back, "let's go get you a new slushy."

* * *

_A/N 2: So this one was basically just Jack and Emily bonding. The secondary purpose of this story, beyond building Hotch and Emily's relationship is making them into a little family._

_Her teaching him how to tie his shoes with the rabbit going into the hole, if it sounds familiar, is referenced in The Hours. I'm slowly but surely crossing stuff off from there._

_And if you have any experience with small children you'll know that "but I wanted'ed that one" is true logic for a little broken heart. _

_Oh, if you aren't familiar with slushies, they are flavored ice drinks. Not a liquid, not a solid. But quite messy and quite sticky.  
_

_The companion piece to this will be them antique shopping._

_Next: "__**Something Very Expensive**__"_


	90. Something Very Expensive

**Author's Note**: Relatively short. At least it feels really short after the mega chapters of the past few days.

And I'm hoping to get through all of my reviews later this evening. I've placed a moratorium on writing until they're done :)

*******************************************

_Late September: Saturday_

**Something Very Expensive**

"Ooh! Hotch stop!"

Hotch turned back to see Emily staring with rapt attention at an antique store window. He shifted Jack up a little higher on his hip.

"Do you want to go in?"

Pointing at the display, her eyes crinkled as she glanced over at him, "look at the lamp! You were saying that you needed another one for your bedroom. This would match perfectly," turning back to the window she sighed, "and it's so beautiful."

It was a tiffany shade in brown, blue and amber glass. Those were the colors in his room. She ought to know, she picked them out.

Hotch walked back down the sidewalk to see what she was pointing at.

Hmm . . . it would match. And he did need another lamp. There wasn't any overhead lighting in his room so it wasn't as bright as he'd prefer.

He tipped his head, "maybe. Let's go so how much it is."

They were in Georgetown so God knows the lamp could cost as much as his car. After the circus they'd decided to take a short walk through the city before they got back on the Metro. It was a gorgeous day. The humidity, and the tourists, were finally gone. But of course they'd walked a little too far and ended up wandering into Georgetown. One of the few neighborhoods with no Metro stop and they had one person in the group with very short legs. So at that point they had to either turn around and go back to GWU, or continue on over the bridge to Rosslyn. After Emily's adventures in her heels last night she was wearing sneakers today so Hotch just scooped up Jack and headed for Rosslyn. One thing was for sure, he was definitely going to skip his morning run tomorrow.

Pulling the door open, he followed Emily inside the shop. It was kind of dark inside and . . . his nose wrinkled . . . it smelled old. And expensive. He tightened his grip on Jack when he saw all the vases and glass knickknacks. Tipping his head down he whispered in his son's ear.

"Don't touch anything okay, buddy?"

Jack leaned against his father's shoulder, "'k daddy."

Hotch knew he was getting sleepy so hopefully he'd pass out before something shiny caught his eye and Hotch was staring down at the shattered remains of a fourth century Ming vase that somebody had found in Grandma's attic.

Following Emily over to the inside of the display window he could see she was getting even more excited as they walked through the shop. Turning back to him she smiled.

"Oh Aaron, this place is adorable!"

His eyes crinkled at her enthusiasm as she stopped behind a matching sofa and chair, running her fingers along the brocade fabric.

"This is gorgeous!"

Wrinkling her nose, she looked back at him, "but you just got a new sofa," she pouted, "shoot. It's too bad we didn't look around more."

Hotch's lips twitched, there was the platonic wife again. She didn't live there but she had indeed assisted him in picking out probably three quarters of everything currently in his apartment that hadn't come from the old house. And as crazy as she'd driven him during the whole decorating process, he had to admit, it had all come together really well. He had a nice home and he had Emily to thank for that. He reached over to slip his hand into hers as they continued across the small shop.

When they arrived at the display window Emily reached up with her free hand, tracing her fingers over the blown glass as she said softly, "oh, it's so beautiful."

Hotch rubbed his thumb across her skin, "well why don't you get it for your place?"

Pulling her hand back she looked at the lamp sadly, "I'd love to but it doesn't match any of my rooms."

Tipping his head, Hotch looked back over at it, she was right. She had no place to put this. Then his eyes tracked back to the frown lines on her face as she stared at the shade and he started to feel that little dig again.

"Here," he passed her Jack, "I'll go find out how much it is." Just before he turned away he quirked his lip up, "watch his fingers."

Emily nodded as she took a step away from the display window and pulled Jack more tightly against her, "got it."

Hotch headed down to the back of the shop to find somebody to help him. Halfway down the aisle an older woman popped out from behind a bookcase. He snorted to himself, probably making sure they weren't stealing anything.

The woman gave him a polite smile, "did you find something sir?"

He nodded, "uh yeah, the lamp in the window. Brown and blue glass, how much is that?"

She twisted her mouth as she walked back over to the counter and pulled out the book. "Hmm, let's see," her finger ran down the page, "that lamp is an original Tiffany jeweled peacock from 1927," she looked up with a smile, "$315.00."

Stunned, his eyes widened as he squeaked, "three hundred and fifteen dollars?"

He was hoping for a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty. It was a table lamp. The kind you can buy for like twenty bucks at target.

Actually, as he thought about it he remembered that Target did have a lamp in a very similar color pattern. Obviously not anywhere near as nice, but still, he should just go there. It's not like anyone ever came over besides Emily and Jack. And it sure as hell wasn't like he had a parade of women in his bedroom to show off his (Emily's) decorating skills to. Really, it was just Emily herself when she went in there to change if she was sleeping over. So basically she was the only one that would see it besides him. He was just about to thank the woman for her time when Emily stepped up and put her hand on his back. Looking down he could see the broad smile on her face.

"I just realized why I like it so much. We had one just like it at the Embassy in Kiev," she sighed wistfully, "I really do wish I had someplace to put it." Her eyes still crinkled as she looked up at him quizzically, "so how much is it?"

He stared at her for a moment, seeing how happy she was, and he sighed to himself. Oh what the hell. He did need a lamp. And it would match. He looked over to the woman behind the counter.

"You take Visa?"

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Short chapter, yes. But this particular little incident was relayed in The Hours as evidence to Hotch himself as to how far gone he already was by this point that he spent a ridiculous amount of money on a lamp just because it would make her happy. So I thought it would be good to stick it in. And if you're curious, that's chapter 51, 'I'm In Love with a Girl.' I did get around to adding in the chapter titles on that story as well. _

_As I was fussing around over there I discovered one of the chapters was completely in bold. Bleh, it looked terrible and made my eyes hurt. So I reposted it, and I actually cleaned it up first. Fleshed out their actions/thoughts a bit more. I haven't looked at that story in months and I'm not entirely happy with some of the stuff I saw. Originally I was just going to clean up the first chapter, but I am now definitely planning on a major overhaul. And when I was looking at it I got some ideas for maybe inserting a couple new chapters as well. It's just now that I have Girl to build off of there's some stuff relationship wise that I could carry forward. It would probably add a little more depth to their relationship and kind of bridge the stories better. That will all be down the road though, when Girl is wrapping up. I will give you a heads up._

_Now we're moving into October and a new story arc. And unlike the gala, where we just had a number of chapters hitting one event taking place over a short period, this one will be a number of chapters over a series of days. I do understand the title will be the cause of some 'curiosity' so perhaps I maybe post a little earlier than usual tomorrow. It is ready to go up :)_

_Next: "__**Officer Down**__"_


	91. Officer Down

**Author's Note**: The first of probably a four chapter arc. First chapter for October. It was still September on Saturday so let's say it's like the first.

*******************************************

_Early October: Wednesday_

**Officer Down**

"GUN!"

Hotch screamed as he shoved Emily down behind him, and then two things happened at once before she even hit the ground.

Hotch slammed backwards into the wall, falling to the floor and Morgan and the rest of the entry team came bursting through the back door, tackling the shooter from behind.

As the perp's gun went flying out of his hand, Emily saw what it was, and her entire world stopped spinning for just a moment.

A .45

Hotch had just taken three shots from a .45 caliber handgun pointblank in the chest. Her stomach dropped.

OH JESUS NO!

And then the world started spinning much too fast.

Derek was screaming from the other side of the room, "PRENTISS! IS HE OKAY?!" while she scrambled over the floor to see if Hotch was even alive, let alone okay. She ignored Derek's cries and the controlled panic of "OFFICER DOWN" she could hear reverberating on the radio.

Focusing only on Hotch, she frantically ripped open his vest and his shirt.

No visible holes . . . no visible blood.

Okay, okay . . . she tried to reassure herself . . . that's good. That's something.

She ran her hands over his chest . . . dry. Then she rolled him slightly so she could feel under his back . . . dry there too.

That's something even better.

And now Rossi was on the radio.

"GOD DAMN IT AGENT PRENTISS! **WHAT** IS GOING ON UP THERE!?"

Still she ignored him as she checked Hotch's pulse and his breathing . . . both there . . . slow . . . but there. She ran her hands over him again, pressing down harder, just making sure . . . but no . . . she bit her lip . . . definitely no bleeding.

Where was he hurt!? She put her hand on his jaw.

"COME ON HOTCH! OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Nothing.

The panic began to well up. She'd checked him and rechecked him and she couldn't see anything wrong with him! So why won't he open his eyes!? Oh God! Maybe it was a head injury. Maybe when he hit the wall he hit his head!

Feeling her eyes begin to burn, she stared at his face. What would she do if he didn't wake up? She shook her head, that wasn't an option. It couldn't be an option. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his ear as she pleaded.

"Aaron, please. Please don't do this to me. You have to wake up."

And for another second there was still nothing, and she was just about to lose it when she saw his lashes begin to flutter before his eyes opened directly on hers. She saw the confusion in them and his first word was a question.

"Emily?"

And his second word was a cry of agony as he rolled over clutching his side.

"FUCK!!"

She ran her hand down his arm as she yelled, "DEREK, HE'S ALIVE!" over to Morgan who was still helping to secure the room. It was a crack house and you never knew who, or what, would be hiding in the dark. She heard Derek yell back, "THANK YOU GOD!"

Though it seemed so much longer, she knew probably only a minute or so had passed since she and Hotch had come through that door. He wasn't out that long . . . it just seemed like an eternity. She whispered her own appreciation to the Man upstairs as she tried to get Hotch to turn over, but he was doubled up in pain with his hands around his ribcage. She leaned down so nobody else would hear her.

"Aaron, just tell me where it hurts."

But he just kept shaking his head as he bit clean through his lip and a trickle of blood began to run down his chin.

She knew the bullets hadn't gone through his vest but she still waited with one hand on his shoulder and one hand on his thigh. Even if the bullet hadn't entered his body he could have serious internal injuries just from the impact. And if he wasn't able to answer her in a minute she was ready to throw him over her shoulder whether he liked it or not.

Luckily for his pride, and her back, she could see his jaw start to unclench as his rioting pain sensors finally began to subside. He slowly moved one of his hands away from his chest and down to his thigh, squeezing her fingers as he said in a ragged whisper, "I'm okay . . . just . . . ribs."

Still wary, she caught his gaze, "you're sure? It doesn't hurt anywhere else?" He squeezed her fingers again and tried to give her a smile, "I'm sure Emily. I'm . . . okay."

He could see how worried she was and he was trying his best to reassure her. It was a little hard to do when he couldn't even take a full breath yet.

Narrowing her eyebrows she shook her head at him, "do you know how much trouble you would have been in if you were dead? On duty or not I would have kicked your ass!"

Hotch huffed, "Prentiss don't . . . make me laugh. I just told you . . . RIBS!"

She gave him a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry," she leaned down to brush her lips against his ear, "seriously Hotch, don't _ever_ do that to me again." She leaned back, giving him a hard look.

Hotch stared at her, putting himself in her position . . . he would have been terrified if she was the one sprawled out on the floor. Their gazes were still locked as Derek came running up.

"You really okay man?"

Hotch blinked, breaking eye contact with Emily as he turned to Morgan.

"I'm fine Derek, just bruised a couple ribs I think," he took a slow breath, "I probably should go to the hospital though," he shifted his eyes back to Emily, "just to be sure."

His breathing was a little easier now but he knew he'd make her go to the hospital. So for her peace of mind he wouldn't pull rank this time.

Her eyes crinkled and she mouthed the words, '_thank you_,' as Derek helped him off the ground. Sometimes he could be so stubborn, she'd been afraid he'd refuse to get checked.

Derek gently eased his boss off the ground, "the scene's been secured Hotch. Everyone who was in the house is cuffed. We're still sorting through the prisoners but I'm sure he's here."

Hotch nodded, then closed his eyes for a second as another blinding stab of pain went through his chest. Oh shit . . . he swallowed . . . the hospital was probably a good idea beyond just keeping Emily happy. He was 99% sure he was fine. It was just his ribs. But that leftover 1%, that was the potential for a collapsed lung. So yeah, it would probably be good to rule that out.

Letting his breath go on a slow exhale, he opened his eyes again to look over at Morgan.

"Keep me posted."

Derek nodded as he went to take Hotch's arm to help him down the stairs. He looked up when Emily stepped forward to Hotch's other side.

"I've got him Morgan. I'll take him in and I'll call if there's a problem," she shot Hotch a look, "_otherwise_ we'll see you back at the hotel later tonight."

She knew this trip to the hospital was just to keep her happy. And knowing him he'd fully expect to go right back on duty as soon as he got some aspirin and a discharge slip.

Ignoring the look she shot him, Hotch just shook his head as he put one arm over Emily's shoulders and turned back to Derek.

"We'll see you at the precinct Morgan."

Emily rolled her eyes. And there you go! She shot him another scowl, not happening buddy.

They started walking slowly across the room, Emily trying to be mindful of jarring him. As it was he kept sucking in his breath. Anybody else probably would have been moaning or crying or something. But of course those were the reactions of regular people, not Hotch. It didn't mean he wasn't hurt though, and he definitely had no business working right now. When they reached the door Emily turned her head back to mouth the words to Morgan.

'_We'll see you at the hotel.'_

And with that Hotch and Emily continued down the stairs with Derek smirking behind them. He turned slightly when he heard Dave come running in from the back staircase.

"Where's Hotch!?"

Derek slapped his shoulder as he ran up, "he's okay Dave. The bullets didn't go through the vest but Emily's taking him to the hospital anyway." Rossi let out a sigh of relief as Derek shook his head, "I tell you man he took three .45s straight in the chest, hit the wall and went down like brick. I thought he was dead. Emily did too . . . I could see it in her face."

She'd looked absolutely terrified. And that in and of itself had scared the shit out of Morgan. Emily didn't get rattled, not on the job. And he hoped never to see that look on her face again.

He looked down the stairs to the two of them bickering at the bottom. She wanted him to go in the ambulance that had been called specifically for him. He said they could just take one of the Suburbans. Derek put money on Hotch winning that one. It was obvious he was only going to the hospital to keep her happy so there was no way he was going to let her win two rounds in a row. He smiled.

"I know nothing's going on between them but," he shook his head, "sometimes I'd swear those two got married one weekend and forgot to tell us."

Dave gave a little half smile as he watched a resigned Emily dig the keys out of Hotch's pocket. Hotch won.

"She's been really good for him Derek," Morgan nodded his agreement as Dave sighed, "I was worried for awhile that we were going to lose him to the job, but somehow Emily was able to get through to him. She keeps him grounded." He nodded proudly as he watched her helping Hotch out the front door.

"She's a good kid."

/////////////////

Emily was pacing impatiently in the hall as the doctor finished examining Hotch. She had accompanied him to x-ray but opted to step out and give him some privacy while the doctor poked and prodded. She whipped her head around as she heard the door open.

"Agent Prentiss?"

She hurried over, "yes."

The doctor gave her a tired smile, it was after midnight and he was only halfway through his thirty six hour shift.

"He's got a couple bruised ribs and with the muscles involved he's going to be in a lot of pain for a couple days. But," he nodded, "he'll be okay." At Emily's sigh of relief he gave her a pleading look, "he wants to go back to work. If you could please talk to him. I'd prefer he rest for the next forty-eight hours but I understand that short of admitting him, I'm not going to get that degree of cooperation," he shook his head, "really though, he needs to try and take it easy as much as possible or he's going to prolong his recovery."

Emily stared at him for a moment, make Hotch rest for two days. It would probably be easier to make water into wine. Then she realized the doctor was still looking at her and she nodded, "I understand." She huffed to herself, it doesn't mean I can make it happen though.

The doctor tipped his head towards the exam room, "he's asking for you."

She stepped past him with a pat on his shoulder, "thanks doc." Giving a courtesy knock, she opened the door, poking her head around the corner.

"You decent?"

Hotch was sitting on the exam table, naked from the waist up, holding his shirt in his hands. Emily raised an amused eyebrow, "apparently not."

Hotch looked up with a sigh, "I'm trying to figure out the least painful way to get dressed again."

She pouted slightly in sympathy as she took a few steps closer. Poor thing. Her brow creased.

"Would you like some help?"

Hotch stared at her. He hadn't needed help getting dressed since he was four, but he had two bruised ribs on his left side. Not to mention getting the wind knocked out of him an hour ago by the three forty-five caliber bullets that did all the bruising. He looked down at the shirt again . . . maybe a little help was in order. Blowing out a puff of air he raised the shirt towards Emily with his good arm. He couldn't really lift the one on his right side. It pulled too much on his chest.

She knew that it was a big deal for him to admit he needed assistance so she didn't say anything as she came over and took the shirt out of his hand. Standing between his legs she gently lifted his arm so he could slide in one hand, and then she leaned over his shoulder so she could grab the other sleeve. Hotch got a whiff of her shampoo in the process and he sniffed. It wasn't her usual scent, but it was nice.

"What kind of shampoo did you use today?"

Emily huffed a little as she slid the fabric up his other arm, only Hotch would pick an emergency room to take note of the fact that she had switched her brand of shampoo. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she glanced at him.

"I ran out. It's the hotel sample."

Looking back down, she pulled together the two sides of shirt to be buttoned. Well, what was left to be buttoned, she'd lost about half of them when she'd torn it open earlier. It would have to do for now but she made a mental note to get him a new one when they got home.

Her hands slowed as her eyes lingered on the horrible purple bruising that was already beginning to show on his torso. If not for his vest those bullets would have gone right into his heart. Feeling a slight nausea beginning to build, her eyes snapped up to Hotch's. But from the look he gave her, she knew he didn't want to talk about it right then. They were still on duty. So she decided to change the subject that wasn't being mentioned before she made herself sick.

Emily whistled as she ran her hand well beneath the bruising, over the muscles on the lower part of his stomach.

"Wow sir, have you been working out?" Hotch narrowed his eyebrows menacingly, "Prentiss . . ."

She started buttoning his shirt from the top down, "I'm just saying Hotch, maybe we should have some sort of wet t-shirt contest for the men of the BAU. You could really give Morgan a run for his money in the ab department."

She wasn't kidding . . . she gave an appreciative nod . . . he was hot. Emily could see Hotch's jaw twitching so she quirked her own lip, "though who knows what Spencer's hiding under those sweater vests. He may secretly have the body of a top fashion model under there."

The idea of Reid being a fashion model was almost inane enough for Emily to break Hotch's cool exterior. But he once again persevered, though he did let out a slight puff of air as he put his hand up to his side.

"Prentiss what did I tell you about making me laugh? RIBS!"

God, the woman was going to be the death of him.

Emily put his good arm over her shoulder as she helped him off the table with a contrite, "I'm sorry."

She was really sorry. She was used to using humor as a connection with Hotch, not as a weapon against him. But she knew that the quivering of Hotch's jaw was the equivalent of a full belly laugh for most people, so she was going to have to be mindful of what she said so she didn't cause him unnecessary pain.

As she threw his windbreaker over his shoulders she promised, "I'll be good."

Hotch raised his eyebrow, "I'll believe it when I see it."

Emily, mindful of her promise to herself a moment earlier, opted not to respond as she shoved his ice pack and his drugs into her pocket. Then she grabbed his t-shirt and vest and they left the exam room.

It was a very slow walk out of the hospital, but after they got in the SUV Hotch tried to convince her they needed to go to the precinct. Remembering the doctor's orders, she tried to convince him otherwise.

"Hotch, Reid called me while you were in with the doctor. They got him. Morgan and Rossi are doing the interrogation now and Spencer said the guy was starting to crack. There's really nothing more we can do there tonight." She looked over at the way he was blinking, "besides, didn't the doc give you a shot of something in the controlled substance category." Hotch gave a reluctant nod, so Emily appealed to his common sense, "then really doesn't it make the most sense for you to go back to the hotel now and get some rest so you'll be awake and fully functioning by morning?"

Though, 'fully functioning' was probably a bit too much to hope for, she wasn't going to mention that at the moment. He was going to be pissed enough about his limitations tomorrow, no reason to remind him of it now.

Hotch tipped his head over to his shoulder with a resigned sigh, "fine Prentiss, you win. Hotel it is."

She gave him a little smile before she started the vehicle and began the fifteen minute drive back to their hotel. All the while doing her best to avoid any unnecessary jostling of her passenger. The passenger who had dozed off before she even slowed down for the first red light. She figured that was partly the drugs and partly the adrenaline burning off. She shook her head, and he thought they should go back to the station. She rolled her eyes affectionately as she reached over to rub his arm . . . silly man.

Hotch woke up fully as Emily turned into a parking spot close to the front entrance of the hotel. She put the car in park, turned off the ignition and sat there staring down at her lap for a moment. He was about to say something when she gave a quick shake of her head, grabbing the keys from the ignition and opening the door.

She could feel 'Agent Prentiss' was packing up her things and getting ready to leave for the evening. And she really needed her to stay in charge for a few more minutes. Because once 'Emily' appeared, she was going to lose her shit. And they still had a couple more things to do before that happened.

Hotch started to reach out a hand to open his door but she cut him off, "wait for me Hotch, I'll help."

He didn't have the energy to put up even a token fight so he just opened the door and waited until she came around to help him slide down, both of them wincing when he hit the ground hard. Emily ran her hand down his back as she asked worriedly.

"You okay?"

Staring at the ground, gritting his teeth, Hotch gave a pained nod, "yep." Then he looked up to see the distress on her face and he gave her a little smile. Strained though it was. Emily stared at him for a moment, feeling more of the cracks in her shell and turned away shaking her head. She slipped herself under his arm, holding him up for the walk inside. He was definitely dragging more now. And it was weird having his weight leaning on her. Hotch was always the strong one.

If anybody working the front desk thought it was odd that a woman was half dragging a fully grown man, both of them wearing FBI windbreakers, through the mostly empty lobby of the Little Rock Hilton, they didn't say anything.

Hotch and Emily made the journey to his room in silence. After he dug out his key card he leaned against the wall while Emily tried to work the lock. She often had problems with electronic locks on hotel room doors. And Hotch smiled softly at her usual obscenity laced tirade as this door was proving to be no different. Then the light went green.

"Got it!"

Fumbling the door open, she helped Hotch inside and guided him over to the bed. She took his windbreaker off his shoulders as he kicked off his shoes. Then he slowly slid back against the headboard, shoving the extra pillows to the floor as he patted the spot next to him.

Time to talk.

Emily stared at him for a moment before she took off her own windbreaker, dropping both of them on the end of the bed. She pulled off her boots and climbed up beside him. Both of them let out a simultaneous sigh as they relaxed for the first time since they were standing in that precinct conference room hours before. Emily blindly reached out next to her and Hotch took her hand. She chewed her lip as her eyes began to burn.

"That would have really sucked if you'd died."

Hotch gave a slow nod as he stared down at their joined fingers, "I agree."

At his typically succinct, Hotch like response Emily turned to face him, touching his cheek as she gave him a watery smile.

"I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend you know?"

They spent all of their spare time together now. His loss would be a gaping hole in her life.

Hotch's eyes shifted up, "you're my best friend too. I'm not sure when it happened but you really are Prentiss," his face softened as he squeezed her hand, "Emily."

It was always a transition from Work to Home.

Her eyes glazed, "I just kept picturing having to go back and tell Haley, and," Emily's voice got husky, "she would have to tell Jack . . ."

She trailed off and Hotch nodded as he looked down at the carpet. The scenes from that horror show had flashed through his mind as well. He looked back over to Emily . . . she looked so sad. That was hurting him more. So as she often did for him, he made a joke to cheer her up.

"I'd be comforting and put my arm around you but," he bumped her shoulder, "I can't lift it."

Emily chuckled as she wiped at the corner of her eye.

"It's okay. Points for intent." Letting go of his hand, she sniffed as she pushed herself up, "well, you need to get some rest."

Hotch could tell by the look on her face, and the fact that she wouldn't make eye contact, that she didn't want to leave him. He didn't want her to leave. Hell, he could have died! Who wants to wake up at three o'clock in the morning by yourself after you almost got your ticket punched? He tipped his head.

"You should stay Prentiss. I might need you to go get me a glass of water in the middle of the night."

A grin spread across her face as she turned to look him in the eye, "well sir, you know I _could_ just put a glass of water on the nightstand," she patted his knee, she knew what he was doing and she continued softly, "but I suppose I could stick around anyway."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he reached out to squeeze her arm.

Emily left to go back to her room and change into her t-shirt and pajama pants. She left Hotch alone only after she had helped him off with his shirt again and dug out his sweats. He insisted he could change into them by himself, "let's leave a little something to the imagination Prentiss." He had enough drugs running through his system to get through the process with minimal cursing. Though it did take three times longer than it should have.

Emily slipped back into his room without knocking. To Hotch's amusement she picked up his clothes off the floor, folding them neatly and putting them on the chair before she went to get him a glass of water. The doctor had suggested he take a Motrin before bed. He was going to be really sore in the morning no matter what but what but that might help keep down some of the stiffness so he could sleep.

After swallowing the pill Hotch carefully lowered himself to the mattress and slowly leaned back against the pillow before closing his eyes. Emily looked down at his bare chest, he obviously didn't have the maneuverability to put on a t-shirt by himself, or probably even with help, and all of his buttoned shirts were for work. She didn't want it to be weird so she decided to point out the elephant in the room now as she tsked.

"You invite me back here under the pretext of getting you a 'glass of water' and I find you half naked. I don't know what kind of girl you think I am sir."

Hotch opened one eye to glare up at her, "just get in the damn bed Emily."

She smiled.

There, elephant successfully spotted and chased from the room. She climbed under the covers, tucking his ice pack against his ribs, before turning off her light and leaning over Hotch to turn off the one on his side. Then she slid down next to him and put her head on his shoulder. And in the dark she finally felt free to ask the question that had been haunting her since she'd seen him lying motionless on the floor.

"Why do you always have to go in first?"

"So this," he took her hand and pulled it over to his battered chest, "doesn't happen to you."

At his response he could feel the warmth of her tears on his skin and he mentally cursed his physical limitations at that moment. She was on his left and the worst of his injuries were on the left side but . . . maybe. He whispered, "switch sides with me," and he heard her sniffle and then felt her brush lightly over his body as she moved to the other side of the bed. Shifting slightly into the space she'd just left, he then lifted his arm, pulling her down next to him. Curling into his side, she nestled her head in the crook of his neck and her hand on his bare stomach. Putting his hand over hers, Hotch squeezed her fingers as he whispered.

"Better?"

He felt her warm breath against his throat as her tears subsided and she settled in beside him with a content sigh.

"Much."

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_A/N 2: Obviously I wasn't going to kill Hotch but they did need a close call. One for an emotional reassessment of how important they are to one another, and two, as I've said before, this is not a damsely Emily story. Anything I do to her, I do something of equal severity to him. And this will follow them over the next few days as their usual dynamics reverse and Emily steps up to take the caregiver role in their relationship._

_I actually wish I could have injured him a bit more severely. Not out of any particular sadism, but given her cancer, and Hotch's general 'Hotch'ness,' their scales are tipped more heavily on his side. Not that that's a bad thing. Hotch isn't caveman about it, he takes care of her because he loves her, not because he wants to control her. But it would be nice to explore the switch a bit more thoroughly. But alas, I only had the month of October to play with completely, then in November we're moving back to canon episodes. Hotch couldn't be recovering from massive trauma given all the running around he does in Vegas. Also, I have other stuff for them to be doing in October and they couldn't be doing it if he was all hospital bound. I needed to give him something that would put him mostly back to normal in about two weeks. Bruised ribs are quite painful, so they will slow him down for a couple days until the muscles start healing. _

_Hmm, perhaps I'll do an alternate chapter where the bullets do penetrate the vest. I did pick a new prompt that would work nicely for that, 'The X Files – This Is Not Happening'. I was already writing a different story for it but this would work too. What do you think kids? Shall I roll back the clock and go 'bang, bang' again?_

_Also this chapter was used as a touchstone for checking on the team's take on their relationship right now. There will be more on that from the Rossi point of view in the coming chapter._

_Inside Joke: The Reid 'top fashion model' bit. Because of course, Gubler was a fashion model. _

_Fun fact: This whole chapter was built around the line "so this doesn't happen to you." That came to me and wouldn't leave so I worked backwards in my mind to come up with a scenario to fit it. I wrote the original draft of this chapter awhile ago and then when I was redoing "Schmorror Movie" I put some foreshadowing into that one with Hotch's thoughts about taking a bullet for her._

_Next: "__**The Day After**__"_


	92. The Day After

**Author's Note**: This picks up the next morning.

FYI: Slight typo in the last chapter. For some reason I wrote that Emily grabbed his Motrin at the hospital. Actually he got 'good drugs' at the hospital and he had the Motrin already in his bag. Just a slight thing but I fixed it on the last chapter. Otherwise it wouldn't have made sense in this one that he had any good drugs to take.

*******************************************

_Early October: Thursday_

**The Day After**

Hotch opened his eyes and groaned.

What the . . . and then he remembered . . . he got shot.

He went to turn slightly to check the time and he stopped, grimacing.

God _damn_ that hurts!

Much more so than last night. Well, not as much as when it first happened, but the drugs had worn off completely and he could barely move he was so sore.

Feeling the warm body next to him, his eyes shifted down, softening as he saw Emily curled up at his side. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair.

It had hurt him to see her so upset last night. And then he'd woken up in the middle of the night to find her crying in her sleep. He just ran his fingers through her hair until she settled down again. He'd wanted to pick her up and hold her, but with one good arm and two bad ribs, that just wasn't an option.

But . . . he thought with bitter irony . . . if he could comfort her like he wanted to then she wouldn't have had any reason to be crying.

And she had been correct last night. That would have, as she'd phrased it, 'really sucked' if he'd died. That was the second time this year he'd come a bit too close to the Pearly Gates. And just like New York, it all came down to a matter of inches. A few inches closer to that SUV and he would have been blown into little pieces. A few inches higher with any of those bullets and one of them would have taken his head off.

His fingers stilled as he stared at Emily . . . she wouldn't have recovered from that.

Hotch shook his head . . . Derek either, he was in the room too. Having someone close to you die, and having that same person killed in front of you are not the same thing. Aside from just the trauma of it they would have second guessed themselves. What could they have done differently? Why didn't they move faster? Those questions . . . they would haunted them. And eventually broken them.

He touched her cheek . . . it would have broken her.

Shifting his body down the pillows, he used his good arm to pull her against his side. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning as he did it, but it was worth it. Still in her sleep, her arm automatically slid across his stomach as she sighed against his bare chest. Hotch moved his bad arm over so he could place his hand over hers, then he closed his eyes again and slowly exhaled.

It wasn't a proper cuddle, his ribs couldn't take a proper cuddle, but it would have to do until he was well. And . . . he gave an internal eye roll . . . he really needed to think up a new word besides cuddle. Emily's vernacular was already permeating too much of his vocabulary. He'd said 'sucks' the other day in the conference room. The whole team stopped and stared at him. Then there were a chorus of snorts before Dave pulled out his wallet, "twenty bucks says the next phrase she teaches him is 'oh man.'" Dave matched him at ten to one odds going with, 'yuck.' Emily smirked as she looked up at Hotch and said, "I'll take that bet."

They both knew he'd said that just last Tuesday when he found a container of Chinese in the fridge that had gone toxic.

Basically at that point he'd lost control of the room and had just glowered at them as he walked out. So God help him if he ever used the word 'cuddle' in their presence. Not that he could envision a scenario in which that would come up, but you never know. Random conversations occur and all of a sudden you're talking about something you weren't planning on talking about. And if they thought she taught him the word 'cuddle' that would set their tongues wagging. But cuddling didn't mean sex. Though that was the more _obvious_ inference, that wasn't the _only_ inference.

Cuddling was something else. Cuddling . . . calmed him. Settled his soul. It was a reminder that he wasn't alone in the world. Everyone should have someone to cuddle with, the world would be a happier place.

He felt her begin to stir beside him and his eyes opened to look down at her.

"Hey."

She gave him a sleepy smile, "hey," she stared at him for a second and then pushed herself up slightly, "how are you feeling?"

For a split second he thought about lying to her and then decided it was pointless. She'd see right through it. So he wrinkled his nose instead, "really not great."

She pouted, poor thing. It had to be pretty bad if he was admitting it to her. She sat up, pulling her legs under her and tipping her head.

"Do you want to take one of the good pills from the doctor or just go with the Motrin?"

His eyes dropped to the blanket as he thought about the question. He really wanted the good pill, but he had to go to the precinct this morning. And he _wasn't_ going drugged up. He raised his eyes to hers.

"Motrin for now, I'll take the good pill on the plane."

Her brow creased in concern, he had to be in a _lot _of pain. She wasn't sure he'd even allow that the good pills were an option. It was clear though, he'd prefer one now. But she knew the most important thing to him wasn't his personal discomfort, it was to project a proper image of the Bureau. It was frustrating for her because she didn't like to see him hurting. But, she could understand that he wouldn't want to be glassy eyed talking to the detectives this morning. She gave him a little smile.

"Okay, I'll get your Motrin now."

She pushed herself off the bed and padded over to the bathroom, she quickly peed and then shook out two pills and filled a new glass of water. The other one probably was all stale. Not that he'd care but it was still kind of yucky tasting. Her lip quirked up. He'd said yuck last week at her house. Not that she ever in a million years thought she'd get him to say, 'yuck-_y'_ but it was amusing to her all the same. Of course she caught herself scowling at Derek last week over something stupid so apparently Hotch was rubbing off on her too.

Going back out, she handed him his Motrin and his water, realizing even as she watched him swallow that he needed to eat something or that was going to give him a stomachache. He put the glass on the nightstand and turned back to her with a slight grimace.

She looked at him for a moment, her face softening before she reached out to cup his jaw, echoing his words to her after the hold-up at the deli.

"I'm really glad you're okay."

Hotch remembered his lines from that night as he gave her a soft smile, "me too."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Hotch's eyes shifted to the alarm clock. From his new half-assed cuddling position he could now see it.

6:20

Ordinarily plenty of time to shower and dress before meeting the team for breakfast at seven. But today . . . his eyes dropped to his chest . . . he was probably going to be late. Very late.

Emily followed his gaze to the alarm clock and then down to his chest before she looked up at him.

"I'll help you."

Seeing him about to protest, she shook her head, "Hotch, what would you do if it was me?"

She knew that telling him to skip the shower because the doctor suggested he take it easy wasn't going to fly. And all the times he looked after her, this was finally something she could do for him. Though of course if she could have had her choice on ways to repay him, she would have preferred for him to have just gotten a stupid cold or a twisted ankle. NOT, three bullets to the chest, any one of which could have taken his head off.

Yeah . . . she thought bitterly . . . she wouldn't have wished for THAT.

He stared at her knowing he'd do anything he could to take care of her if she was hurt. Then his lips started to twitch.

"If it was you I'd have to call JJ for the shower part."

Her mouth quivered, "yes, yes you would," she tipped her head with amusement, "but you have less to look at." At his indignant scowl she started to laugh, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" She put her hand out, "now come on, I'll avert my eyes from what I'm sure is your abnormally large manhood."

Growling, Hotch closed his eyes, "Prentiss you're killing me." He felt her fingers slip into his, "come on sir, time's a wasting. You can growl at me later. We need to get you cleaned up so I can run next door. Otherwise we'll be showering together."

Hotch opened his eyes with a smirk and she shook her head, "in your dreams." As she started to pull him off the bed she looked down at him with a twitch of her lips, "besides I'm not sure there would be room for me in there with you _and_ Kong."

She did so love to bust his balls. It had been one of her favorite pastimes for going on eighteen months now.

He dropped his head to his chest muttering, "why God? Why me?"

She slipped herself under his side, "you're just one lucky SOB sir, that's the only reason I have for it."

Hotch's retort was lost in a moan as she pulled him up.

Oh Christ . . . he closed his eyes . . . this was not good.

Emily felt his whole body tense up and she waited for a second until he let his breath out again. Wincing, she looked up at him in concern.

"You okay?"

All things being relative she knew he wasn't. Basically she just needed to know if she had to call 911.

He gave a pained nod, "yes," then he huffed, "well, no, but that can't be helped."

Her brow creased in sympathy as they started the first steps of their slow journey the six feet over to the bathroom door. She looked over at him.

"I know, I'm sorry but you should be feeling a little better in a day or so. I mean you'll be achy and bruised but today's probably the worst for the stiffness and pain. Especially given you don't have any drugs in your body, but the Motrin should be kicking in soon," she looked up at him, "you have to remember to take it every six hours so it'll stay built up in your system, okay?"

Looking down he gave her a small pained smile, "okay." He had no doubt that if he forgot she would remind him.

They got to the bathroom and Emily went over to turn on the hot water for the shower before leaving Hotch alone for a minute so he could have some privacy. She came back in when he yelled a moment later and she found him leaning against the sink. They looked at each other for a moment before he rolled his eyes.

"Just try to watch your hands."

Her mouth quivered, "yes sir." Then she stepped forward and pulled down his sweatpants, and she was _very_ careful to watch her hands. She already had copped her accidental feel on the couch a few weeks ago. It would probably be best if she didn't do that twice in less than a month.

Hotch might get the wrong idea.

He put his hand on her back as he stepped out of them. Turning to toss them back into the room, she then moved under his arm again to walk over to the shower. She'd turned the nozzle slightly towards the wall so it wouldn't spray as she pulled the curtain back.

Furrowing her brow she looked between him and the shower.

"I have to get in with you."

Hotch's eyebrows went up in alarm, "what? Why?"

She sighed, "you can't wash your hair."

God, she didn't see how he was going to do anything. Showering wasn't a particularly strenuous activity but it did involve moving and bending and twisting. All activities Hotch wasn't particularly adept at presently.

He stared at her. Crap. He hadn't thought of that. Arm lifting was the one big thing he couldn't do at all. It tore at his chest. He was thinking she'd just help him in, he'd toss out his boxers and the water would do the rest. But he really couldn't do much of anything except stand there and get wet. Maybe use his one good arm to wash his one bad arm. Yeah, that'll work. He rolled his eyes.

God, apparently she was going to have to get in with him. Then his gaze dropped down to her t-shirt. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. Crap, AGAIN! He brought his eyes back up to hers as he said a little nervously, "uh Prentiss, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment and he pointed to her chest. Her eyes dropped down.

Crap. Talk about a wet t-shirt contest.

Looking back up at him she shrugged, "well, what else are we going to do? Do you want me to get one of the guys for you?"

As awkward as this showering thing might be for the two of them, she _really_ didn't think he'd want to be mostly naked with Derek or Dave either. None of them were homophobic but . . . they were guys. And straight guys just DON'T take showers with other straight guys. Not unless they're all standing in a row with their eyes facing the wall. And in that scenario there certainly isn't any touching involved.

Hotch blanched, God, he didn't want to be half naked with one of the guys soaping him down! That was just . . . no. He rolled his eyes, not that either of them would ever volunteer anyway. That option would be about as appealing for them as him.

No . . . he sighed . . . astounding as it was, showering with Emily was definitely the lesser of the evils here.

And really, bottom-line, he didn't want anyone else to see him this vulnerable. He trusted Emily a lot more than anyone else with a lot more personal stuff. If he was going to have to be broken and incapacitated in front of anyone it would be her.

Seeing the expected look of disdain at the idea of showering with the guys, she knew the decision was made. She huffed, "you don't look up, I don't look down. Deal?"

He huffed back, "deal." He shook his head, "but I'm just putting it out there now. Any reactions are involuntary." Please God don't let there be any reactions.

She snorted, "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted."

His eyes crinkled, "let's just get this over with."

He's taking a shower with Emily. He hasn't had sex in over a year and he's about to take a shower with a beautiful woman. Yeah, this isn't going to be awkward. He was just about to call it off completely when he got another sharp twinge in his chest and he remembered. He couldn't do this by himself. And he really needed to take a shower. The hot shower spray was probably the only thing that was going to allow him to move more than three feet today without assistance. Not to mention they'd been working non-stop before the raid so he hadn't showered in a day and a half.

Turning his head to the side he sniffed, yeah, he seriously needed to wash up.

Emily looked down at her clothes. Well clearly everything was staying on, but the t-shirt part might not make any difference. She rolled her eyes, at least it was a blue academy one. If it was a white one it would have been a repeat of the whale show. So the difference this time is there wouldn't be any ACTUAL skin tone visible on her nipples. She snorted to herself, talk about small favors.

Taking a quick look around the tub, she made sure the soap and shampoo were there before she stepped in. The spray hit her chest, immediately plastering her clothes to her body. She looked over at Hotch who was shaking his head, "this is such a bad idea."

She sighed, "Aaron you can't do it yourself and neither of us has showered in two days," she put her hand out, "we're adults we'll get through it."

Taking her hand, he simultaneously snorted and winced as he stepped over into the tub and looked down at her. He was careful to keep his eyes on her face.

"Yeah the 'adults' part is the problem."

She pulled the shower curtain shut and looked back at him. They stared at each other for a moment, both dripping wet, trying to figure out the best way to do this without a really big oops. Then Emily's face lit up.

"I got it. You look at the ceiling and I'll take care of your hair and upper chest region. Then you keep looking up, I'll wash my hair and then I'll get out so you can take care of the rest of your business yourself," she tipped her head, "well, the best you can."

She figured she'd do a quick scrub under her pajamas with the washcloth while he was staring at the ceiling. She rolled her eyes, she couldn't believe she was showering with Hotch. Not sexually, but still, a situation _rife_ with potential missteps.

But . . . she took a breath . . . he was hurt, and he needed help, so they would get through this. They were them, they would just talk through the awkwardness.

He nodded, "okay, yeah, that should work." He just had to remember, eyes up.

Now that they were in agreement on a plan, Emily grabbed Hotch's shampoo, poured some onto her hand and stood up on her tiptoes to wash his hair.

Of course, tiptoes in the shower are not the safest thing to do.

And certainly not when you accidentally drip some of the shampoo into the tub . . . which . . . she did. Then she moved forward an inch . . . and hit the deck.

Hotch looked down in horror.

"EMILY ARE YOU OKAY?!"

He tried to reach down for her and then hissed in pain as he remembered he couldn't do that. So he bent down at his knees and put his good arm out to touch her face, "are you all right?"

Stunned, she looked up at him, she'd just missed cracking her skull when she went down.

"Yeah, I'm okay," and then she started to laugh, "looks like we need a Plan B."

Hotch looked down at her soaking wet in the bottom of the tub. She looked like a drown rat. Nothing sexual at all. And he started to laugh too, "God, we are quite a pair." Then he clutched his side moaning, "OW! Can't laugh."

Why couldn't he have busted his ribs a year ago when his life was completely devoid of any laughter, happiness or fun? It would have been less painful. Of course he only had laughter, happiness and fun now because of Emily, and if he didn't have Emily then he'd have nobody to help him get cleaned up. He'd probably be calling some call girl service to come out and help him take a shower right now. Yeah, that would be a fun one to explain to Strauss on the next expense report discussion.

Emily pushed herself back, holding onto the sides of the tub for support. Hotch started to slowly push himself back up as well but Emily shook her head.

"No you stay there. I'll do your hair."

He nodded as he lowered himself the rest of the way to the floor of the tub, "Plan B."

If nothing else Plan B sounded like it was safer than Plan A. They'd both be at ground level. He shook his head, thank God she didn't hit her head. He didn't even know how the hell he would have helped her. Well, if she was unconscious and bleeding he would have found a way to pick her up. He would have been screaming in agony, and most likely had ended up collapsing five feet into the hall, but . . . he bobbed his head . . . that would have been okay. All the screaming would have drawn a crowd and she would have gotten help.

Okay . . . he nodded to himself . . . if all else goes to shit, there's his Plan X. Screaming and collapsing. Not in the manual . . . but, works in a pinch.

Emily picked up the shampoo again, putting her hand on Hotch's head to steady herself as she stepped around him. Once she was at his back she got down on her knees, dumped another squirt of shampoo into her hands and started lathering his hair. This time when her hands touched his scalp she stayed completely in the same place, and she sighed . . . much better. And she was amazed at how little hair he had to wash. Hers took like two minutes. She was done with his in like thirty seconds.

Once that was done she grabbed a facecloth, poured some of his shower gel onto it and started washing his back and his arms, careful not to press her breasts against him. That wasn't ever a concern of hers when they were dressed and dry. But rubbing her soapy breasts against his bare back in the shower, uh, yeah, not a good idea.

Her hand paused for a moment when she suddenly noticed the faint scars on his back. And she knew instantly what they were. But she didn't want him to realize that she'd noticed them so she started moving her hand again, gently washing the marks. She was glad they were in the shower because her eyes began to sting as she thought about what they meant. But it wasn't like it was a surprise. She just wasn't expecting to see the physical evidence.

Blinking repeatedly she tried to will away all the horrible images in her head. No time for them now. And Hotch certainly wouldn't have any desire to discuss that with her at the moment. He was already feeling weak and vulnerable. Even having to deflect the question would probably hurt him. These were the bad things they didn't talk about. And if she didn't have her pajamas on he'd see the skin graft scar on her thigh. And she sure as hell knew she didn't want _that_ to come up right now. So for both their sakes she put the scars and all they meant out of her head.

Some day wasn't here yet.

Moving back to the business of the shower she realized she needed to step over him again to do his front. But then it occurred to her that their modesty issue was already being addressed. She was behind him so she should just take care of her stuff now.

"Hey, I'm going to wash my hair really quick then I'll do your front."

He closed his eyes as the shower spray continued to hit his chest, soothing his muscles, "I'll be right here."

She smiled, "you're being such a good boy. Maybe you'll get a lollipop when this is all done."

He huffed, "I'd prefer a Percocet." Chuckling she started lathering up her hair with his shampoo, "I think I can arrange that." She quickly rinsed her hair out, laughing as she ended up splattering Hotch with soapy water and he shot a glare over his shoulder. She looked around the tub, "don't you have any conditioner?"

"Emily my hair is one inch long. It really doesn't get tangled."

She nodded, "good point."

But this was a problem for her. Then she spotted the hotel samples on the edge of the tub, "ah huh!" She leaned over him to grab them and he chuckled, "breasts Prentiss, breasts."

"Oops. Sorry."

Damn. And she'd been doing so well.

She worked the conditioner into her hair, leaving it in while she soaped herself up under her t-shirt. And then up under her arms. No shave today so she made a mental note . . . no tank top today. She looked down at her sopping wet pajama bottoms and then said screw it and slipped them off.

Hotch felt her lean against his head again and he asked suspiciously, "what are you doing?"

"Taking off my pants," was her casual response.

"PRENTISS!"

She patted his head, "relax, I still have on my underwear. I just realized my t-shirt came down halfway to my knees. I'm totally covered."

As she began washing her legs she heard him say suspiciously, "would your t-shirt happen to be long enough to cover your legs because it is in actuality, MY t-shirt?"

Oops.

"Um . . ."

His lips twitched, "it's okay, you can keep it."

He'd thought that looked a little big for her. Usually her clothes were more fitted. Even her pajamas. He felt her hand back on his head, then he saw a long shapely bare leg appear in front of him, followed by the girl it was attached to two seconds later. He looked up and sighed.

"It's really good we're almost done."

She smirked, "yeah, I know I'm so freaking hot. My stubbly unshaved legs could stop traffic." He snorted as she put her hands out, "this part will probably be easier with you standing."

With another groan he came to his feet and she soaped up the washcloth again. But as she turned to him she stopped, actually looking full on at his chest. And suddenly she burst into tears.

Stunned Hotch stared at her for a second, "oh Emily," biting his lip he reached for her, pulling her against his good side as he wrapped that arm all the way around her. All the while hoping his body would do him a small favor and not react to having a wet soapy half naked woman pressed against his mostly naked front.

She cried against his chest as he bent his head down murmuring against her hair, "shhh, it's okay. I'm okay." After a couple minutes her tears tapered off. He held her for another minute and then she leaned back suddenly and gave him a watery smile.

"Oops. I'm going to have to leave you in here with the cold water huh?"

Feeling the heat climb his cheeks he closed his eyes and nodded, "yes."

Apparently his body wasn't in the mood to grant favors today. He was doing really well until she stopped crying. Then, there was a twitch. And now . . . there was a problem. But at least the problem hadn't developed until after she stopped crying. Because, wow, _that _would have been sleazy!

She gave him a sympathetic smile, "don't be embarrassed. It was my fault." Her eyes started to burn again as they dropped to the bruises on his chest, "it's just that when I looked at your chest all of a sudden I had this image of you in my mind. Dead. Lying in a coffin with those fucking bruises on you." She shook her head as she looked back up at him horrified, "I'm sorry I probably shouldn't have told you that."

Jesus! Did she just actually say that out loud to him? She sighed, nice Emily, real nice.

Hotch swallowed, hard. Well that was enough to extinguish the problem. A metaphorical dousing of cold water works too.

Glancing down Emily saw the issue had resolved itself so she took advantage of the lull and gently washed his chest and his sides. Then said screw it and decided to do the rest of him too. They'd already survived one accidental hard on, they'd survive another. She just made sure to keep her face out of there.

Emily snorted, and Hotch, who had been concentrating on naming all of the Presidents in alphabetical order, glanced down.

"What's so funny?"

She started to giggle as she looked up at him, "just thinking I need to get my face out of here before Kong gets loose again and I lose an eye."

He closed his eyes, "are you done?"

"You mean mocking you or washing you?"

Still with his eyes shut he waved his hand around, "either, both."

Her lips twitched as she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, "both," then she turned back to turn off the faucet.

She looked back up at him, "okay, not exactly the most thorough of washings but I think we're both clean enough. And I don't have to leave you in here with the cold water running so I think we can consider this a successful outing."

Hotch huffed, "yeah, I suppose it could have been worse."

She stepped out of the shower and went over to grab the two big towels off the rack. Then she stopped and Hotch tipped his head as he saw the look on her face, "what?"

"Close the curtain." He looked at her for a second and then nodded.

Hotch slid the curtain shut and then he could hear a 'plop' as Emily's wet t-shirt hit the tile floor. Ordinarily that wouldn't be a problem, he wasn't a teenage boy. But things were still a little twitchy down there, so just to be safe he went back to his presidential archives.

Emily pulled off her wet t-shirt and underwear and hurriedly dried herself off before running back into his room naked to rifle through his ready bag. Pulling out another pair of sweatpants and a clean t-shirt, she yanked them on and came back into the bathroom to wrap her hair up in a towel. Then she grabbed the other big towel and went over and pulled the shower curtain open.

To Hotch's relief he saw she was fully dressed. He was afraid there was going to be a towel wrap situation and that would have been intolerable given the recent issue. Then to his amusement he realized she was fully dressed, in _his_ clothes.

His lips twitched, "can I expect to get those back?"

She smirked, "maybe." After stepping back into the tub, she quickly patted him down. He could have done some of it himself, the Motrin and hot water had loosened him up a little, but the clock was ticking. And really, it was much faster this way. Once all of his bare skin was dry she wrapped the towel around his waist so she wouldn't get wet from his boxers and then slipped herself back under his right arm so they could step out.

They separated and Hotch looked down at her, squeezing her hand as his eyes crinkled, "you're a really good friend Emily Rose."

He honestly didn't know anyone else that would have done that for him.

She gave him a soft smile, "you always take good care of me Hotch. I'm just returning the favor." Then she leaned up, touching his face, "you need to shave." She furrowed her brow, "do you think you can do that yourself?"

He nodded, "it's an electric razor and I only need one hand," his eyes crinkled, "just tell me if I miss anything."

She smiled, "okay," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "I'm going to run next door and get dressed. I'll put some clothes out on the bed for you. Just get your boxers on and I'll help you with the rest," she gave him a hard look, "seriously don't try to do your shirt, you'll pull something else."

His eyes crinkled, "I promise. I am going to attempt to get my pants on though," he tipped his head, "given the amount of time that may take you might still get another look at my legs today."

Her eyes twinkled as she grinned, "hey, screw the legs I'm going for another shot of that ass."

He barked a laugh then grabbed his side as he groaned, "ow!"

Wrinkling her nose she gave him a sheepish smile, "sorry, I keep forgetting." She stared at him for a second longer, until his brow creased in curiosity and she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, "I'll be back in a little bit."

As she leaned back he tipped his head, "Emily really . . . thank you."

She didn't say anything. She just touched his cheek and then she turned and walked out of the bathroom. And he stood there for a second after she left, just staring at the tile, thinking about what it was that she had done. And he realized that they needed to have a conversation. One that was overdue. He heard the hotel room door click shut and he sighed . . . later. Later today when they got home, they'd talk. He'd make sure of it. He nodded to himself before taking a breath and going over to the sink to dig out his razor.

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_A/N 2: For all their 'non' sexual tension, it just didn't really seem realistic that you could put two attractive people into the shower, mostly naked, one soaping the other up and there not be perhaps a biological reaction beyond his control when she was pressed against him after all that other activity. I don't personally possess this equipment but I do understand there's probably a certain point where all the self control in the world is going to hit the wall. But I wasn't going to write it all creepy and have that happen while she was crying. Because I would think the self control would cover things that would be major turn-OFFS, like her crying and upset would be a turnoff. And I also wasn't going to write it with either of them thinking any 'impure' thoughts about the other. Because seriously, that SO would have been icky. And that's why the fact that he did have a physical reaction beyond his control was embarrassing to him. Not when they were only in that situation because he was hurt and she was trying to help him. They're at their base friends, with a relationship built on love and trust. Lusting in that scenario, even if it was just in the mind, would have been a violation of that. And it's always important to respect the relationship first._

_Don't think I'll be posting tomorrow. My muse is on the fritz. I can't 'get into' anything. And I have how many stories going and how many different chapters to cover in each? I just can't find anything that striking a spark. I can still 'see' scenes but it all just seems kind of, 'eh.' Fortunately this chapter was done before the fritzing. But the next one only has a few scribbles so that's not good. I'll come back when I can._

_Next: "__**Three Little Words**__"_


	93. Three Little Words

**Author's Note**: This has two segments and I was thinking about posting the first part, the Dave part, separately but then realized it actually did flow with the other piece so I left them together. So the beginning picks up at breakfast that same morning of the shower. And I was going to fit in a bit more of the other team reactions but unfortunately I could NOT make that flow. Dave's bit kind of stands alone. But I'll try and write in something for them after the weekend.

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_Early October: Thursday_

**Three Little Words**

Dave put down his coffee as he leaned over and sniffed Emily's hair.

"You smell like Hotch."

He hadn't been able to figure out what it was before but she smelled like a guy. And then he realized the guy she smelled like was sitting two feet away from him.

Horrified Emily almost dropped her coffee before she looked over at him and pleaded in a hushed tone, "_please_ don't say that in front of anyone else."

She'd used Hotch's shower gel and his shampoo, it hadn't even occurred to her at the time, they were both guy scents. Specifically _Hotch_ scents. And she was sitting at a table with people trained to notice the slightest change in behavior. Showering with your boss was a _major_ change in behavior. Crap.

Raising his eyebrow, Dave tilted his head, looking quizzically at her damp hair. Then he looked past her to Hotch's damp hair. They both smelled the same and they'd both been late coming down to breakfast. And Emily wasn't quite as put together as she usually was. Her hair was still wet, pulled back in a ponytail, and she didn't have any make-up on. His brow furrowed. Huh.

She got in the shower with him.

And if he'd needed help in the shower, he probably couldn't get dressed by himself either. So she must have helped him with that too. Which would explain how Hotch, who only had full use of one arm, was still as perfectly put together as he always was. And Emily, who had no impairments, was slightly disheveled. She hadn't had time to take care of her own stuff after she took care of his. And it was obvious to Dave looking between the two of them, her priority had been taking care of him.

His face softened as he patted her hand and whispered back, "I won't say anything," then he quirked his lip up, "but if you have any perfume you might want to run up and put it on after breakfast."

Her eyes crinkled as she whispered a relieved, "thanks." She figured Dave had deduced what she'd done, but Hotch was hurt so she wasn't worried about him getting the wrong idea. Then she turned back to her coffee, making a mental note to run up to her room as soon as she was done eating.

For the rest of the meal, Dave subtly watched the two of them interact. Emily was eyeing Hotch. Anticipating his needs, getting him more coffee, grabbing the butter on the other side of the table. He wanted for nothing and at one point Dave saw him quickly rub his hand over her forearm when he didn't think anyone was watching.

Not to mention the fact that she cut up his breakfast for him. Or at least she tried to, Dave heard Hotch whisper that they were scrambled eggs so he could probably handle it. Emily had turned slightly pink and Hotch's eyes had crinkled as he patted her leg.

That was a thank you. A thank you for looking after him. A thank you for caring. Dave realized then, their feelings for each other appeared to be shifting, deepening. He considered Hotch a close friend, and he sure as hell wasn't going to get in the shower with him. Yeah, he definitely would have hired some hooker for him to help out, but he wouldn't have done it himself.

Dave watched as Emily rubbed Hotch's back as she leaned behind him to get the waitress' attention.

Helping someone who's injured take a shower and dress themselves. That's something you did for someone you loved. His eyes widened.

Son of a bitch! They were falling in love!

That made sense though, as he watched them now and thought about what he'd been noticing over the past few weeks. Nothing major, just subtleties of interactions. The look on his face now as he covered her with the blanket when she fell asleep on the plane. He'd always covered her up but the look now wasn't the same. Or the way she would light up when he came into the conference room in the morning.

Just little things. Unconscious things. Dave didn't think anybody else had even noticed.

But Dave was an observer of human behavior long before that was actually a job. And his face softened now as he watched them, Hotch had pushed his plate over so Emily could have his hash browns. Then Dave's eyes crinkled as Emily slipped her hand down and put her hand on his knee as thanks.

Good for them. They had complimentary personalities. They probably could be very happy together. Actually it was pretty obvious they already were happy together. Though Dave was pretty sure neither one had a clue.

They didn't consciously interact any differently. They still joked and bickered. Dave huffed to himself. The bickering reminded him of him and his first wife. Derek was right, it was kind of like they'd gotten married and forgot to tell anyone. But they were more like six years in married, not newlyweds. Dave knew once they started looking at each other like newlyweds then one or the other would finally have gotten a clue. But in the meantime . . . he chuckled watching Hotch roll his eyes good naturedly as Emily wiped a drop of coffee off his tie . . . Dave would keep their secret.

It wasn't his to tell.

////////

Hotch waited patiently as Emily lugged their bags down the hall and started fumbling with his keys to unlock his door. He was moving a little better now but she was insistent that he not do anything. And she did mean ANYTHING. That included carrying his own bag. And though he understood in principle it probably _wasn't_ wise in his condition to be lugging around forty pounds of clothes, ammo and case files, he found it rather annoying in practice. The whole idea of having _anyone_ carry his things for him, let alone Emily, well, that was just . . . distasteful. Men didn't let women carry their bags for them.

That just wasn't done.

So when they were leaving the hotel he tried to insist that if she could just place the strap on his good shoulder he'd be totally fine. She just rolled her eyes and asked if he left anything in the bathroom. And when he tried to go look she put her hand up and told him to wait and she'd check. Then on the plane she waited on him hand and foot. And he didn't even ask her for anything! She just had an uncanny ability to sense when he was _thinking_ about wanting something and she did it. Actually, it wasn't even just Emily, anytime he'd tried to do anything for himself today one of them had appeared at his side.

It was sweet. And he was grateful for their concern.

That said, he was quite sure that if he'd had to spend another full day with the entire team he would have killed them. And then he would have had to start hiring from scratch. The tipping point came when they were at the airport and he'd gone to the men's room. Alone. He turned away from the urinal, still zipping up, to find Reid standing behind him asking if he was 'all set.' What exactly Spencer thought he was going to help him with, Hotch did not wish to know. He just thanked him and told him he'd be out in a minute.

Fortunately though Hotch wouldn't be seeing them all again until Monday. They hadn't landed until Thursday afternoon and he'd given them Friday off. They'd probably worked eighty plus hours so far for the week and everyone was dragging.

As they had split up to go to their cars Hotch hadn't even tried to send Emily away. He knew full well that if she was the one that was injured that he would have gone home with her, so in the reverse it was understood she was coming home with him. So now here they were, both of them exhausted, and for once nothing to do for the next twenty-four hours. They had stopped into the office for five minutes just to check their in-boxes but neither of them had anything particularly pressing. Hotch was just hoping to rest up so he'd be in good shape for Jack this weekend. He had no intention of postponing or cancelling his visitation.

This was a temporary setback, nothing more.

Emily opened the door of Hotch's apartment and leaned down to pick up the bags scattered at her feet. Their laptops and their ready bags, which included their extra clips, so that was probably sixty pounds worth of gear in total.

Thank God the bags all had straps, she'd just had to evenly distribute the weight and she was fine.

So after she dragged their stuff in and dumped it by the couch, she turned around to go back out in the hall to get Hotch. And then she realized he had followed her in and was presently locking the front door. Stopping in the middle of the room she frowned at him, "why didn't you wait for me?"

Lips twitching Hotch slowly walked over and pulled her against his good side. Rubbing his hand down her back he kissed the top of her head.

"I appreciate everything you're doing for me, but I'm not completely broken Emily. Just a little banged up. And now that the pills are getting built up I'm definitely more mobile." His eyes crinkled as he leaned back to look down at her, "so you don't have to shuffle me around like Grandpa Hotchner, okay?"

Her lip quirked up as she stared at him for a moment, picturing him as a Grandpa Hotchner. Then she tipped her head slightly, "okay, but I just don't want you to overdo it."

Nodding he ran his hand down her arm, "I promise."

He really had no desire to injure himself any more severely than he already was. This was already a major irritation, he didn't want any setbacks. But his bigger concern was making sure she didn't kill herself looking after him. She'd had a long week too. So as long as he kept the anti-inflammatory meds built up in his system, he could do some basic stuff, like for instance, walk around, unassisted. Then they could live in the happy medium where she could fuss over him a little bit and he wouldn't feel too guilty about it.

She put her head back on his chest, started to move her arm up to hug him but then remembered all the bruising on his other side and pulled her hand back, putting it on his hip instead. She knew she was being a little overprotective but come on, the guy got shot! Just because the bullets didn't penetrate the skin didn't change the fact that they were indeed _fired_ into the space surrounding him. And just like New York, it was really a miracle that he was still walking around.

Looking over Emily's head Hotch checked out the living room. She'd already told him she was staying over tonight and he was trying to figure out where to set up camp. Usually the couch, but that wasn't really going to work very well right now. He needed to lie down and they couldn't share space like they usually did. So that would mean she'd have to sit in the side chair. And that wasn't an option that held any appeal to him at all. And then he realized what they could do.

He patted her back, "let's get some movies and set up in my room."

Emily nodded against his chest, "that sounds good. And I know it's a little early but I'll order some dinner."

They hadn't eaten since breakfast with the team that morning. Wrinkling her nose she leaned back, "what's the least messy thing to eat in bed," she smirked, "I know crackers are out."

She wasn't sure how that became a cliché, she'd never known anyone who had eaten a cracker in bed or was so inclined to eat a cracker in bed.

Hotch smirked, "well, 'somebody' insisted that I buy a set of four matching TV trays _specifically_ for eating in bed. So really, you can get whatever you want, crackers included. The crumbs shall be contained."

Though why he had to get _four_ trays he still did not understand. He'd asked if she thought he was planning on throwing some sort of orgy and she'd just rolled her eyes as she shoved them into the shopping cart.

Delighted, Emily's face lit up, "oh yeah! I forgot about those," she grinned, "are you ever just astounded at my brilliance?"

Rolling his eyes Hotch stepped back, "yeah, I'm sure you'll be piloting the first mission to mars."

By force of habit Emily smacked him lightly on the chest for his mockery. And then she froze, realizing what she'd done. She looked up at him in horror.

She didn't even know what to say.

Wincing slightly, Hotch looked down with a mixture of pain and amusement, "one week Emily. Make a mental note, no smacking for one week."

Her eyes were watering as she gaped at him, "I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Oh God, how could she be so stupid?!

Shaking his head he ran his hand down her back, "it was a light graze Emily. Not a closed fist punch. I'm fine."

It actually did hurt, she got him on the bad side, but she didn't need to know that. He knew she already felt guilty enough.

Emily stared at him, she'd seen the flash of pain on his face. And she knew he was lying to make her feel better, which just made her feel worse. As she felt her eyes begin to leak, she stepped back, afraid of doing something else stupid and hurting him further. Wiping her hand under her eye, she sniffled, "I'm really sorry."

She was also really annoyed that she was crying again. But it seemed like since the crack house she was crying at the drop of a hat. Though, this was a bit more than a drop of the hat.

His face softened as he reached out for her, "I already told you it's fine. And hey," taking her hand, he tugged her back over, "where do you think you're going?" He looked down at her, "you don't have to put a buffer zone between us. You're not going to break me." His lip quirked up, "and certainly not with one of your little girly slaps." He saw her eyes crinkle slightly and he put his hand under her chin so she'd look up at him. Once he'd caught her eyes he gave her a pointed nod, "okay?"

Holding his gaze for a moment, she then gave him a watery smile, "okay."

She knew she had to remember to be more careful though. She was so used to him being indestructible. Obviously he wasn't, last night had proven that. But when it came to any possible damage she could inflict on him just joking around it had certainly always seemed that way. Sighing she placed her head gently back on his chest.

Hotch leaned down slightly, rubbing his hand along her back, wishing he could give her a proper hug. This one handed business was crap. It was like something you did for a great-aunt you run into a funeral. He couldn't hold her tightly, he couldn't pick her up. It was bullshit, that's what it was. For the next day or so he was supposed to keep his other arm as immobile as possible. Just to let the muscles in his chest start to mend. Then he was supposed to start some light stretching. So he figured it would be another three or four days before he'd have good flexibility in his other arm again. And then at least he could wrap her up properly.

And she was so afraid of hurting him that she was doing one handed hugs as well. The whole situation was a real pain in the ass. He'd become quite accustomed to the hugging and the cuddling and both activities were being severely curtailed. He wished he had that crackhead who'd shot him in front of him now. One handed or not, he'd kick his ass.

He leaned back slightly and looked down at her with a little smile, "so how about we get that dinner?"

/////////

Hotch was propped up on his pillows watching with some amusement as Emily cut his burger into four perfect little triangles for him. She said it would be easier to eat that way, and he couldn't really argue with her logic so he just nodded and said "good thinking."

Emily finished cutting the last segment and looked up at him with a little smile, "how's that?"

He looked down at the burger and then up to her expectant face and his eyes crinkled. She was so adorable. He nodded.

"It's perfect."

Stepping back from the bed she smiled broadly, "good."

She didn't want to get on his nerves so she was trying to think of ways to help that would allow him to do stuff for himself. And God knows he wouldn't want her 'feeding him' a hamburger. But he would have probably dropped everything but the bun, if he'd picked it up one handed. She thought this was the best solution.

It was funny he'd decided he wanted burgers for dinner. That wasn't their usual take out. That was more of an eating out thing. And though he denied it, she was pretty sure he picked them because she'd mentioned a craving for French fries on the plane.

Speaking of French fries, she frowned as she started digging through the bag. It looks like they forgot the ketchup. Grrr.

"It's probably in the other bag."

Emily looked up in confusion and Hotch gestured over to the second bag sitting on the THIRD TV tray. He was amazed but she'd actually found a non-orgy use for more than two trays in the bedroom.

Rolling her eyes Emily pushed herself up, "oh yeah, I forgot."

Given they'd been away for most of the week Hotch hadn't had a chance to go shopping after Jack left last weekend. So he didn't really have any food in his house that wasn't in dinosaur shapes. That was the one thing he was always stocked up on, Jack stuff. Emily also was out of groceries so she said they could go together on Sunday night after Jack left. She'd help him with the bags. But in the meantime, it was decided to order a little extra food that they could put in the fridge to eat tomorrow. So beyond the burgers and fries for dinner, they also had a mushroom pizza which Emily had stuck in the refrigerator, and two Greek salads. And that was what had come in the third bag. The salads were also in the fridge, but she remembered she'd brought the bag back in with her because she could see now . . . her ketchup.

Fisting her hands up she carried over all the little packets to her tray. Tearing open the perforated white corners, she squirted out a little pool on Hotch's plate and then one on hers. Finally she looked around and decided they were all set so she climbed back up on the bed and picked up her dinner. Sighing in contentment she started munching on her fries. Yum.

Hotch had been waiting for her before he started eating, and his lip quirked up as he looked over at her in French Fry euphoria, "all set?"

Nodding happily she turned to him and swallowed her bite, "uh, huh."

His eyes crinkled, "good," then he turned back to pick up the first little quadrangle of his dinner. He ate it in two small, neat bites. He had to hand it to her, it worked like a charm. And it was much more dignified than eating a hamburger with a fork. His eyes wandered back up to the television. They were watching Jurassic Park. He huffed to himself, and given the size of his bedroom the dinosaurs that had just appeared onscreen looked pretty huge.

When he'd moved in he'd decided to invest in a flat screen for the bedroom as well as the living room. Actually he'd just taken the smaller one he'd bought for the living room when he moved into the month to month rental. Then he bought a new, larger model for the living room at the new place. As they stood in Best Buy Hotch told Emily it was a good investment, he needed a television for his room anyway. At the time Emily had rolled her eyes at "the ridiculous male tendency to find ways to over compensate." She'd gone on to point out he was going to have a 46' screen in the living room and a 36' in the bedroom. She had a 32' in the living room and a 26' in the bedroom. And she added that given her rooms were slightly larger than his, those same dimensions should have been just fine for him as well. Plus he would have saved like $1500. He responded indignantly that there was no compensating, over OR under, and he simply needed the larger screens because of his nearsightedness. Of course he then ignored her perplexed response of, "but you have contacts," because that didn't really fit into his logical retort. Instead he went on to point out that Morgan had a 62' television so if she wanted to talk to anyone about 'compensation' it should be him.

That was the last word on that discussion.

So now they were piled on his bed, in their sweats watching movies on a very large screen as they ate burgers and fries. His eyes crinkled, it was a good afternoon. Well, slight physical incapacity and massive bruising on his chest notwithstanding, it was a good afternoon. But he'd taken one of his good pills when they got home so the pain actually wasn't too bad. Provided he didn't laugh that is. That was the one thing that still tore at his side. Otherwise it was just an ache that he was growing accustomed to. He'd found that pain was mostly just a distraction when it was new. But your body could adjust to anything, and then it just became the new normal. And the new normal was a steady ache in his side. But it could have been worse. Much worse, so he wasn't going to bitch about it.

He popped the last quarter of his burger into his mouth and then dumped his remaining fries onto her plate.

The burgers were good but he'd only told her he wanted them for dinner because he knew she was in the mood for French fries. And getting her an order of fries for dinner seemed like the _very_ least he could do to thank her for the help she was giving him. It would do until he could think of a proper thank you gift. Her birthday was coming up shortly so she wouldn't be able to complain about him spending the money on a thank you present either. As far as she was concerned it would just be a birthday gift. Just perhaps a more expensive birthday gift than he might have purchased otherwise.

Leaning back Hotch huffed as he glanced over at Emily. She'd exhausted her supply of clean clothes out of her ready bag so she'd thrown all of her laundry into the wash. Therefore at the moment she was wearing his SWAT t-shirt and a pair of his flannel pants. She was swimming in both of them. So much so that she'd rolled up the cuffs of the pants.

Sensing Hotch looking at her she looked over and grinned, "hi."

His lip quirked up, "hi." Raising his eyebrow he looked over her plate, "you done?"

Looking back at the remains of her food she nodded, "yep." She wasn't as hungry today as she usually was. Probably still nerves.

Patting the pillow next to him he quirked his lip up, "well then come lay down with me."

Smiling softly she turned and put both of their trays onto the floor, then she slid across the bed, moving the pillows around and curling up at his side. After she had placed her head on his shoulder, with a slight wince, Hotch tugged the afghan down from the headboard. He'd tossed it up there earlier when she went out to get the food.

Giggling she straightened out the blanket, "how come you always remember to get me a blanket and I don't?"

He rested his head against hers, "because I don't want you to catch cold and get sick."

Her eyes crinkled as she slid her hand across his stomach, "thanks." They were quiet for a few minutes as they watched the movie, and then Hotch heard the pout in her voice as she said, "this is really more of a snuggling thing. It isn't a proper cuddle." His lip quirked up, snuggle, yet another word men didn't use aloud. Then he kissed the top of her head.

"I know. It's not. But it's the best I can do for now."

She mumbled against his shirt, "well, maybe we could switch and you could get on top." Her eyes crinkled as she felt the vibration of his laughter through his chest and then the groan that inevitably followed before he said, "it's not sex Emily," then he snorted, "and even if it was, in either the intercourse or cuddling scenario I would probably crush you right now because I can't shift my weight properly."

Lips twitching she looked up at him, "um, I think if we _were_ trying to have sex I could just get on top."

He scowled at her, "what are you crazy? You're not getting on top!" Then he looked at her and burst out laughing, "okay, how did we get to _that_ conversation?" Then he winced, "ow, damn it! Still no laughing."

Emily snorted, "um, I think YOU started it with the 'it's not sex, Emily,' retort. And I've now found out that your Type A tendencies apparently extend to other activities as well."

Not that that in any way surprised her. Hotch didn't even like her carrying his bag, he sure as hell wouldn't allow her to do anything so strenuous as to get on top when they were having sex. And she realized she had now dwelled on this topic a bit longer than she should have, and as a result some actual scenarios had popped into her head. Her face started to feel a little warm and she quickly shook those images out of her head. Really Emily, NOT appropriate to picture yourself having sex with your best friend! Even if it was just an accident. She scowled at him, besides it was _his_ fault, he was the one that brought it up.

Hotch glanced down to see Emily giving him a dirty look and he wrinkled his brow in confusion, "what's that for?"

She glared at him, "YOU! Putting thoughts in my head about us having sex!"

Raising his eyebrow he looked down at her, "I suppose at this point I'm supposed to say I'm sorry?"

He had more than enough experience with women to know that he could be blamed for thoughts that came completely out of _their_ imaginations.

Pushing herself up she scowled at him, "yes, yes you are. If not for what YOU had said then I would never had had those thoughts."

Lips twitching he looked over at her, "well then I'm really sorry Emily that my perfectly benign off the cuff analogy ended up leading your dirty mind to envision us actually having sex."

Eyes widening, she asked incredulously, "THAT'S your apology!?"

He nodded seriously, "yes," then he tipped his head, "but my apology is sincere. Because it was not my _intent_ to plant any such imagery in your head."

And he also knew if the apology wasn't sincere, he was going to be getting that evil eye for the next hour.

Eyeing him for a second longer, she then nodded before settling back down next to him, "okay then."

She figured provided there was no intent, it wasn't 'technically' his fault.

He looked down at her, "so how was it?"

Her lip quirked up, he was such a guy. Well, be careful what you wish for buddy. She shrugged nonchalantly, "eh, it was okay."

Indignant, Hotch's eyes widened as he looked down, "JUST okay!? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Imaginary sex or not he wasn't about to have her going around telling JJ or Garcia it was 'just okay.' He had a reputation.

Then he saw her lip quivering and he figured out her little game. She was screwing with him.

Pfft. Well, one handed or not he could still take her out. He slipped his hand down under her afghan and tweaked her side, "just okay?"

She started giggling, "gah! Stop!"

Shaking his head he continued tickling her, "uh, uh, answer the question properly and then it stops. Now I say again, JUST okay?"

Now squirming around cracking up, she tried to get away from him. But unfortunately for her he still had full strength in the right arm and she couldn't get loose. Finally she yelled, "FINE! YOU WIN! IT WAS THE BEST FAKE SEX I'VE EVER HAD!"

He pulled his hand back with a satisfied smirk, "there. Now next time perhaps you'll remember that before you go around telling falsehoods about my performance."

Pushing herself up she looked at him with her eyes twinkling and she started laughing again, "it was _imaginary _sex you big GOOF!"

Nobody at work would ever believe that Hotch engaged in the practice of tickle torturing. It just so didn't fit with Mr. Serious at the office.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow, "all the more reason you shouldn't have tried to screw with me," he took her hand and started tugged her across the bed, "now come with me. All of your top, bottom sex talk gave me an idea." Ignoring the dirty look she shot him at the 'top, bottom sex talk,' line he pulled her off the bed. Dropping her hand, he hit the off button on the remote before picking up his drink and gesturing for Emily to do the same.

"To the couch."

Amused at his 'Alexander the Great' look of determination she followed him down the hall. Making a mental note as they came into the living room that she needed to go back and clear the dirty dishes. Then she looked at him and shrugged.

"Okay, now what?"

She wasn't quite sure what had changed since the last time when they were in the living room. Cuddling was out because his ribs couldn't handle any pressure.

Hotch put his drink on the table then, grimacing slightly, he leaned over to take the back cushions off the couch.

Confused, Emily watched him for a second and then she grinned, "oh sir, you're a genius!"

Turning back to her he tipped his head, "well, it only works at my house, not your house," then his eyes widened as he looked at her, "oh, we forgot the movie."

Her eyes crinkled, "that's okay, how about we watch Jaws instead?"

She liked to cuddle while she watched something scary. And Jaws was way scarier than any slasher movie out there.

Hotch's lip quirked up, "Jaws sounds good." He went over to lie down on the couch, putting his head on the opposite side then he normally would. Then he tucked the remotes under the cushion so he wouldn't have to reach for them and waited for Emily to come back over and join him. Right after she hit play he said, "don't forget your blanket."

Smiling softly she looked over at him, "yes sir." She was about to go back to the bedroom to get her afghan when she saw Jack's flannel fire truck blanket folded up on his toy chest. After taking a sniff, she made the determination that it was freshly laundered. And thereby deduced that it wouldn't have any grape jelly on it from last week's picnic in the park, she carried it over to the couch with her. Climbing up behind Hotch, she half laid on his good side and half tucked herself into the empty spot where the cushions usually were. She didn't need them, Hotch was her cushion. Then she pulled her blanket over both of them, wound her legs around his and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. After she was all settled he wrapped his arm around her as he sighed, "there, crisis averted."

Her eyes crinkled in amusement as she murmured against his throat, "no cuddling was a crisis?"

Nodding he rubbed his hand down her arm, "it was a crisis."

One of epic proportions. If it wasn't for Emily and her dirty mind he wouldn't have come up with the idea of flipping things around.

She reached over to slip her fingers into his other hand as she whispered, "I agree."

They had gotten used to sort of . . . rejuvenating by close contact. And given his near miss, the one thing she'd desperately wanted was to have that physical reassurance that she'd come to depend on when things got bad. That reassurance that he was okay. And because they couldn't have that last night, that had made it all so much worse. But now, brilliant man that he was, he'd figured out a way to get it back.

He was right though, it wouldn't work at her house. Her cushions didn't come off so there wouldn't be room for her to slip her body behind his. If she hadn't been able to shift partly into the space then she would have been pressing down on too much of his chest. But this . . . she kissed his jaw . . . this was just perfect.

As they settled back and started watching the movie they began to really relax, almost like things were normal. Hotch's lips would twitch every time Emily squeaked and buried her face in his neck. And that happened every time the shark popped up. And to his great amusement he found out she'd seen the movie enough times that she knew half the dialogue. He was actually having a better time listening to her Shakespearean recitation than he was watching the movie itself. And he was actually a fan of Jaws.

But the professional actors had nothing on Emily's version of a Boston accent doing "swim Chahlie swim!" Hotch laughed until he moaned and then Emily apologized again as she kissed his cheek. He told her not to worry about it. A little pain was nothing compared to listening to her Academy Award winning performance. She giggled and patted his stomach, "okay then."

About halfway through the film she put her hand down on the on the other side of him so she could lean over to take a drink. As she started to pull back to lay down again he leaned up slightly and kissed her cheek. Propping herself up over him she smiled down, "what was that for?"

He winked, "you're a good time Emily Rose."

She winked back, "you too Aaron Francis." Pulling herself to the side again, she tucked back against him and he wrapped his arm around her. Then her eyes began to burn as she remembered again that she could have lost this.

She could have lost him.

Pressing herself firmly into his side she reached over to take his other hand. And as she played with his fingers her voice broke, "I wouldn't have had anyone to cuddle with anymore."

Tears immediately sprang to Hotch's eyes as his gaze shifted down to her. Stroking his fingers along her bare arm he whispered, "but I'm okay though," he kissed the top of her head, "we have many more years of cuddling ahead of us."

Then it occurred to him, if Emily got a boyfriend, she'd have somebody else to cuddle with. He frowned slightly. He didn't much care for that thought. Obviously though, they couldn't do this if either one of them was in a relationship. But _he_ wasn't looking for anyone. He liked his life as it was. But Emily was young and beautiful and just because she hadn't found somebody yet didn't mean she wouldn't eventually.

Those thoughts were pushed aside as he felt the wet spot growing on his sweatshirt and her ragged breath as she tried to stop crying. He felt a pang in his chest and his expression softened as he kissed her again. Future fictional boyfriend or not . . . she certainly wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. No, for the time being they were each other's Person. And he wasn't going to drive himself crazy worrying about that someday maybe changing. It would ruin what they had now. And what they had now was mostly what kept him sane.

As he felt her drying her tears on his shirt he figured this was probably the best time to have that conversation he should have had a month ago. He ran his fingers down her arm, "I've been meaning to tell you something. Something that I should have told you a few weeks ago but it just never seemed like a good time. But given what happened I can see now I've been putting it off too long."

Confused, Emily pushed herself up slightly so she could see his face. Then she wiped her hand under her eye as she sniffled, "what is it?"

He stared at her for a second, wondering if she was going to be angry that he hadn't spoken to her first. Bracing himself he just said it quickly.

"After you got sick last month and I had to bring you to the hospital it got me thinking about some things. And I had some papers drawn up," he cleared his throat, "and I probably should have talked to you first but I just wanted to get them done."

He could see her looking quizzically at him and he reached over to pick her hand, "if something happens to me, if I get hurt or sick and couldn't make the decisions about my care . . . it would fall to you," he squeezed her fingers, "I want you to be my medical proxy."

Her eyes widened before she whispered, "oh."

Wow! She so wasn't expecting that. Then her eyes dropped down to his chest and Hotch's gaze followed as he explained.

"You can see now why I realized I should have said something before. If things had gone differently and I'd been seriously injured, I'm not even sure who would have had standing because they haven't been executed yet. Nor has the Power of Attorney," he cleared his throat, "which was the other thing I had drawn up. If I was incapacitated you would have legal authority to make decisions about what to do with my estate," he shrugged slightly, "such as it is."

He figured she didn't need to know he'd also made some major changes to his will. After he got divorced he'd revised it to leave everything to Jack. Last week he'd split things 75/25 between his son and Emily. People assumed because her family had money she had money. But that wasn't true. The condo was her biggest asset and she had that because her uncle owned the building. So he just wanted to make sure she had a something to put aside for emergencies. Not that he was wealthy or anything but because of the dangers of his work, and his concerns about providing for Jack, Hotch paid a high premium for very good life insurance. So if he was killed in the line of duty, from the insurance payout alone, Emily would get a quarter of a million dollars. But, he figured it would be best if he didn't tell her that.

Biting her lip Emily looked back up at him and he started to get concerned that she was upset. Touching her cheek, he asked worriedly, "are you okay with this? I know it's kind of a lot to dump on you but I think the last twenty-four hours have proven the point that you really can't put off these conversations."

She nodded slowly, "no, it's okay," then she gave him a sad smile, "I'm honored. I just wasn't expecting it."

Sighing she put her head back down on his chest, "I've never had anyone that was dependent on me. You know a spouse or children so I guess I was never really as," she searched for the word, "_responsible_, as I should have been. I don't have a proxy or a Power of Attorney," she frowned, "I don't even have a will. My parents are still alive so I just went on the assumption that if something happened to me they would get everything."

Emily was quiet for a moment, thinking about Hotch and Jack, and her friends on the team, and she realized that she really should have a will drawn up. If she died there were things that she would want them to have. And she loved her parents but Hotch was her best friend, if anyone was going to go through all of her crap after she died she'd prefer it be him and not her mother.

And she really did need a health care proxy. They had a dangerous job. And even if they didn't, there were icy roads and drunk drivers and, she shuddered, fires. There were all kinds of terrible things that happened to people every day. She'd always wished she had someone close enough to appoint as a proxy if she was incapacitated. But God knows she'd never been in a relationship where she'd felt strongly enough about that person to even give him a key, let alone the right to pull the plug. And she'd had close friends over the years but nobody she'd give that kind of responsibility to. Drinking buddies, college roommates, shopping friends, colleagues from work, they all drifted in and out of her life. And none of those relationships had ever approximated the intensity of her bond with Hotch.

He was like . . . her brow furrowed . . . the person that shows up with the other piece of your amulet. That was Hotch. He was meant to be. And she knew he would always do what was best for her. He would know what she wanted, and he would make hard decisions if they had to be made.

Pushing herself up slightly she looked into his eyes, "would you be my health care proxy?"

He gave her a sad smile, "yes. Would you be mine?"

Her eyes crinkled slightly as she nodded, "yes," then she wrinkled her brow, "what do I need to do to get that set up?"

He furrowed his brow, "well, my papers are drawn up already. You can look at them tomorrow, see if you want the same things in yours and if you do, I'll just call my attorney and have him draw up a set for you. If you want different things I'll let you talk to him and then we'll go sometime this week and get them signed." Tucking her hair back behind her ear, he gave her a little smile, "and hopefully we'll never need either set."

It seemed a foolish hope. So far they'd just been lucky and eventually that luck may run out. This year alone, New York, Colorado and now Little Rock, they all could have ended with one of them breathing through a tube.

Emily stared at him for a moment and then nodded, "right, hopefully we'll never need them." Settling back down at his side she tried to focus in on the movie again but she was too distracted. Thoughts of all the scenarios where they would need the paperwork kept coming to her. Torturing her. A few minutes later she felt Hotch shift slightly so his body was angled towards hers and then he pulled her against him, rubbing his hand down her back.

"No thinking Emily," he picked up her hand with his bad arm, "tell me about the next scene coming up."

Her eyes crinkled slightly, "that's easy. They're gonna need a bigger boat.'" Resting his head against hers, he pressed his lips to her hair, "yeah, what else?"

She gently rubbed his chest, "well, at least five barrels."

He kissed her forehead, "five huh, that's a lot." Nodding, she said softly, "it is." They were silent for a moment as her fingers ghosted over to the other side of his chest. To the bruises she couldn't see. She whispered.

"You promise you're not gonna die on me?"

He ran his fingers down her arm as he whispered back, "I promise. You promise you're not gonna die on me?"

Her eyes started to burn, "I do."

"Okay then, I think that's the best we can do for today," he looked down, "you want to watch the movie?"

"Yeah," looking up she gave him a watery smile, "yeah I do." Shifting slightly again they both turned towards the screen once more, Hotch running his fingers along the bare skin of her arm.

They both knew those weren't promises they could keep, but they still needed to be made. Sometimes the difference between life and death all came down to whether or not you had somebody to live for.

A promise to keep to someone.

And Hotch knew now that Emily would be devastated if something happened to him. So beyond just leaving Jack without a father, but knowing how much it would hurt her, that might be enough to push him just a little bit harder. Hang on just a little longer. That was the intent of the promise. The promise was to try.

This was what he'd realized in New York had been lost to him. And now he'd found it again. He mattered to someone. He had someone that mattered to him. Feeling Emily moving up his side, he turned slightly as she pressed her lips to his ear.

"I like this t-shirt. Can I steal this one too?"

His gaze shifted down, and seeing the little grin on her face, he kissed her nose and she laughed. Pulling back he looked at her for a moment and his eyes crinkled . . . yet another face he couldn't say no to. She didn't even need the pout anymore.

Then he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek as he whispered.

"As you wish."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Dave would be the first one to figure it out. Emily's dad had his suspicions, as did JJ, that perhaps there was something else there, but Dave's the man. Also, seriously, if somebody is hurt and needs help showering and dressing themselves, and you do that for them, that is a MAJOR relationship barometer. Elderly parents, small children, loved ones in genral. That's who you do those things for, not work colleagues or casual friends. And originally the Dave segment was going to be the last portion of the last chapter but I cut if off because that was the point where the muse went on the fritz. And I didn't want to mention that point before because it was still coming from Dave._

_And the rest of it, I didn't have time to explore the real emotional ramifications of what had happened in the first follow-up chapter. That was really just covering like forty minutes of time while they got ready for work. They would have shoved aside any real discussion or speculation about what a different outcome would have meant until they were home. Clearly though, Emily would have been quite shaken, realizing that if he had died she couldn't have just gone back to things as before. He's too much a part of her life now. I do think having someone specifically that you need to stay alive for does make a difference. And I had to find a way to get the cuddling back in, when I busted his ribs I was thinking it would be a couple weeks. Really though, moving the cushions does work. I thought of that when I was straightening up my own couch. I'm like 'hey, this leaves more space!' So you see, housework can lead to practical breakthroughs for fictional characters.  
_

_Also, another thing I crossed off from The Hours, when Hotch gets to the hospital he is listed as her medical proxy, and that change had to happen at some point. I thought this was a logical point for the discussion to take place. _

_If you're familiar with The Princess Bride then you'll know, "as you wish" means I love you. But, I'd say Princess Bride isn't really a Hotch type movie, so he wouldn't consciously know that. But let's say he picked it up subconsciously through pop culture osmosis :) And that folks, was the best I could do for a declaratory statement. They both clearly understand their love for one another as friends is not in question. But at this point, either of them actually saying the words, 'I love you' even as friends, wouldn't have worked. You know when you start to develop feelings for someone, you're more careful about what you say. You don't joke, 'you still love me right?' trying to gauge depth of affection. Because trust me younger viewers, it's really not so funny when he responds, 'no, no I don't.' Yeah, it's funny __**YEARS **__later, but really, not so much at the time. At the time, it's a devastating blow. But years later, it's good for a chuckle. So with that in mind, I decided that even if they consciously aren't aware of the shift yet, their subconscious would have been resistant to that idea. _

_I'm thinking about maybe doing one more rehab chapter but I don't have a specific thought in mind. So I'll probably jump ahead to Saturday. But, if anyone would like to have something else covered during this little interim of them at Hotch's house, let me know. Otherwise, next up is Jack._

_Feedback folks, it's good for the soul!  
_

_Next: "__**Make Way for Ducklings**__" _


	94. Make Way For Ducklings

**Author's Note**: Hi guys! I'm back, and rather fitting on Father's Day that this chapter is mainly about Jack and Hotch. This is two and a half days post shooting.

FYI: The title, _Make Way for Ducklings_ is the name of a famous children's book here.

* * *

_Early October: Saturday_

**Make Way for Ducklings**

Emily was running late for her afternoon in the park with Hotch and Jack. It had started off randomly enough running into the two of them that first day in early September, but then it quickly became a routine that was expected, if not always strategized. But today she knew specifically that the Hotchner boys were waiting for her. And she knew this because Emily had spent the last two days with Hotch, only going home last night right before Haley dropped Jack off. Hotch had thanked Emily for all of her help but had assured her that he was mobile enough two days post gunfire to look after his son by himself.

And not wanting to intrude on his time with Jack, she hadn't argued with him. But she really had been hesitant about leaving him alone so she was anxious to see how he was feeling today.

She was just adjusting the grip on the plastic shopping bag she'd run home for when a little tornado started racing towards her.

"MISS EMILY! MISS EMILY!"

She caught Jack just as he leapt at her, throwing his arms around her neck.

"Daddy got a boo boo!"

As she squeezed the little body tightly, Emily looked over Jack's shoulder to see Hotch following at a much more tempered pace. She winced slightly in sympathy before turning back to Jack and kissing his cheek.

"I know honey. Daddy got a very bad boo boo."

Jack slid back to the ground and Emily took his hand before turning her full attention to Hotch. He was just walking up, and she could see from the lines on his face that he was already tired. With a faint pout, she tipped her head towards him.

"And how does Daddy feel today?"

Hotch gave her a little smile as he took Jack's other hand, "he's good. Just sore."

Seeing the look that Emily was giving him, he sighed . . . he should have known better than to lie to her. So he shrugged his good shoulder slightly.

"Okay, sore and a little tired."

That was a major understatement. He hadn't realized how much Emily had been doing for him. And now he was doing all that for himself, _plus_ looking after Jack. He was freaking exhausted. And his side was killing him. But that was probably because he was off the percs until Jack left. And he was going to be off them again when he went back to work. So he was seriously looking forward to the one and only pill he was going to allow himself tomorrow evening. Bottom line, he hadn't been feeling much like going to the park today.

Or getting off the couch really.

An eighteenth viewing of Finding Nemo had never sounded so appealing. But he sure as hell wasn't going to keep his son cooped up in the apartment all day. That would have felt like punishment.

And besides that . . . Hotch's eyes crinkled as he glanced over his son's head . . . he had really wanted to see Emily. She'd been living with him for almost two days and he got used to having her around.

He'd missed her when she went home.

Emily scrunched her eyebrows at him, she knew he was still covering but she let it go.

"I figured you'd be tired, which is why I brought," she shook the bag on her arm, "this."

Hotch eyed the bag curiously, "what's that?"

She wrinkled her nose, "well, I knew you obviously wouldn't be up for running around today. And it's kind of boring for you to just sit and watch _us_ run around, so I thought we as a group could feed the . . ." for Jack's sake Emily spelled out the word, "D-U-C-K-S." Then she gave Hotch a slightly nervous smile, "sound good?"

Emily had thought this was a good idea when she was leaving the house, but then she was thinking as she walked down. It was Hotch's kid, and close friend though she may be, she didn't want it to look like she was dictating how he spent his time with Jack. But given the look on his face now she was starting to realize maybe she'd been worrying for nothing.

Hotch gave her a relieved smile, "that sounds great. Thanks."

He'd been a little concerned about keeping up with Jack today. Thank God for Emily. She usually knew what he needed before he needed it.

Glancing back over to her he gave a slight tip of his head down to his son who was happily swinging between them. Jack loved the ducks. And it was Emily's idea so she should get to be the big hero.

Emily responded with a big grin before tilting her head down slightly.

"Hey Jack o'Lantern, would you like to feed the duckies today?"

His head whipped around so fast Emily thought that he'd need a neck brace. Then a huge smile spread across his face right before he yelled, "YAY DUCKIES!" and tried to break free of their hands to run to the pond up ahead.

They both firmed up their grips as Hotch looked down at him with 'the daddy scowl.' A toned down 'mock' version of the regular glare reserved for grownups. This version was just firm enough to make the seriousness of his point clear without scaring the crap out his kid. And the only reason that there was even a slight scowl at all, was because this was a conversation they'd had before. Jack knew he wasn't allowed anywhere near the water unless he was holding one of their hands.

But he always got excited and he always forgot.

"Whoa buddy! You _can't_ run ahead. Remember, you have to stay right with me or Miss Emily when you're near the water. Okay?"

Still straining his neck to see the duck pond, Jack gave his father an absentminded head bob, "'kay Daddy."

As they got closer to the water Emily looked over in concern as she saw Hotch wince slightly. He'd been biting his lip for the past couple minutes. This was apparently a bit too much of a work out. And what was ridiculous was, it wasn't a workout at all. It was a leisurely walk going like a quarter mile down a footpath on a breezy fall day.

Seriously, there were old people passing them!

So she reached over Jack's head to touch Hotch's arm.

"When we get down there, why don't you find a rock to sit on for a couple minutes and Jack and I will get started?" She raised her arm a little, "we have stale hotdog buns for an appetizer, and then a rock hard loaf of Italian bread for the entrée," she gave him a soft smile, "you can just skip the appetizers. No biggie."

Hotch stared at her for a minute, debating, and then his eyes crinkled, "thanks," he nodded, "yeah, I could rest for a minute."

He could actually rest for an hour, but that wasn't really one of the options on the table. With a slight sigh he fixed his grip on Jack's hand . . . he really should have thought this day out a little better.

/*/*/*/*/*/

When they arrived at the water the three of them settled on a large flat rock under a willow tree. Emily opened the grocery bag and took out the two small bags of stale bread inside. She gave the loaf to Hotch, grabbed the rolls for herself and with a smile took Jack's hand. The two of them continued down the slight bank to the edge of the water. Eyeballing a three foot buffer zone between them and anybody going 'splash,' Emily finally plopped down on a relatively dry swatch of grass. Her eyes crinkled when Jack giggled as she pulled him down into her lap.

After he was safely trapped behind one arm . . . he was still a bit too excited to just sit still . . . she opened the plastic bag, pulling out the first roll and handing it to him with a smile.

"Okay honey, now you tear it up into little pieces and start throwing it in for the duckies."

They'd walked down to see the ducks before but they'd never had any bread to feed them, so Jack was thrilled at this outing. And to his absolute delight, as soon as he began throwing tiny pieces of roll into the water, the mallards and geese immediately started heading over to them. They could hear the echoing quacks and honks across the murky water as word passed quickly that lunch had arrived.

Jack whipped his head around to Emily with a huge grin.

"Miss Emily look at all the duckies!"

She laughed, "I know baby, whole bunches of duckies!"

As she handed him another roll, her lips curved into a soft smile.

"Now keep throwing them in, you got a big crew there."

It was a crew that was growing by the minute. She personally hadn't fed the ducks in years so she'd forgotten how quickly they converge for free food.

Hotch watched them from behind, smiling and occasionally having a painful chuckle as Jack . . . or to his greater amusement . . . _Emily_, would yelp if one of the ducks swooped in unexpectedly. Finally Hotch realized he had a camera with him, so he fumbled into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

Then he quickly snapped a couple of pictures before the moment was lost.

Jack tossed his last piece of bun over to a Canadian goose who caught it directly in his mouth. Then he stood up with Emily laughing while she held onto his hips. Turning his head he yelled back over his shoulder to Hotch.

"DADDY, DID YOU SEE! HE CAUGHTED IT!"

"Caught pal," Hotch said with a smile, "and yes I did see it. Good job!"

Then . . . trying to hide his grimace of pain . .. he slowly pushed himself off the ground. Once he was upright, he stooped back down at the knees to pick up the Italian bread before turning back to Jack and Emily.

"Second round?"

Jack clapped . . . and of course Emily joined in just to bug Hotch. He rolled his eyes at her as he came over to sit down next to them. Then he started doling out the bread to the other two. He didn't really think even light throwing was on the list of approved activities for a few more days.

But that was okay . . . his eyes crinkled as he watched how excited they were . . . he still got to sit with them. He was happy if they were happy. And by handing them the bread he was more of an active participant.

Before he was sitting _literally_, like a bump on a log.

Jack and Emily made one loaf of bread last for almost another full half an hour. And after they were done they were sitting quietly for a few minutes and then one big goose, who was still looking for some scraps, came up and honked in Emily's face. He scared the crap out her and she leapt back. Hotch tried, and failed, to hide his amusement at the look of terror on her face.

He snorted.

"Emily, it's a duck, not a serial killer."

She started to give him a sharp retort, but then stopped when they heard a loud honking noise off to the side. Emily spun her head around, not realizing she was now sitting so close to Hotch that he got whipped in the face with her ponytail.

"Did you hear that honk? That was an _angry_ honk! He could have been calling in reinforcements!"

Seriously, geese scared the crap out of her. They were all cute and sweet when they were babies, but then they got big and mean. Unfortunately you couldn't feed just 'the ducks.' You had to feed the geese too.

Damn moochers.

Hotch put his hand up to pull a piece of her hair out of his mouth, "thanks for the ponytail to the face Prentiss. I'll be coughing up a hairball tonight." Hotch looked out over the pond at the perfectly well behaved water fowl minding their own business, "and well, if he is bringing in reinforcements, we might have to gear up for some hand to hand because I didn't bring my gun."

With a derisive snort, Emily turned back to him.

"Lot of help you'd be in your condition. I'd have to defend myself," she looked down to Jack who was sitting between them, playing with a worm he'd found, "the boy, and you."

"Well, Agent Prentiss," Hotch responded drily, "if we are attacked by a band of angry disenfranchised Canadian geese, I have full faith in your abilities to get us out alive."

Emily nodded as she stood up, "thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence." Reaching down, she put a hand out to help him up. And she noticed he allowed her to accept a bit more of his weight than he usually would have. She frowned.

His drugs definitely were wearing off.

Hotch stepped behind her and exclaimed, "Emily! You're _covered_ in mud!"

She turned her head to check out the back of her jeans, "huh, so I am." Shrugging, she looked back at him, "eh, it's just dirt, it'll come out," then she smiled, "and even if doesn't, it's okay. I've ruined clothes for much less worthy causes than this."

Hotch huffed and then turned around to convince Jack to let his worm go back to his family. Once, 'Oscar' had been sent home . . . Hotch, out of habit . . . went to pick up his son for the walk out of the park.

It was the stabbing pain in his chest . . . followed by a sharp squeak . . . that reminded him, lifting wasn't on the list of approved activities either.

Oh shit.

At Hotch's pained gasp, Emily whipped around in a panic.

"Aaron!"

He was bent down clutching his chest. But then he raised his head slightly and quickly pulled out a pained smile for Jack.

It probably came out more as a grimace but he tried for comforting. Because Hotch could see Jack was more than a little nervous that his father had almost dropped him and was now doubled over in pain.

"I'm fine," he took a shallow breath, "just a twinge."

It was actually more like a spasm, and it took almost a minute of slow shallow breaths for it to pass. Deep breaths might have helped it pass a bit more quickly. But deep breaths hurt like a bitch so those weren't possible.

When the worst of the pain had passed, and he was breathing almost normally again, he looked back down to his son.

There were tears in his eyes.

And Hotch felt like somebody had kicked him in the gut.

He had just scared the crap out of his kid. And now he couldn't even pick him up to comfort him. Hell he couldn't even get down on his knees and do a half assed hug! He was afraid that in his present condition, that would set off another spasm. So he had to settle for just a squeeze of Jack's shoulder and a slightly pained smile.

"I'm okay buddy. Don't worry. Just the boo boo. But I hope you're not too tired, because I think you're going to have to walk. Daddy can't carry you right now."

And that seriously pissed daddy off. These simple little things that he did when caring for his child, he took them for granted. And those were the things had been temporarily taken away from him.

Emily had been eyeing Hotch worriedly since she'd heard that horrible gasp, but now that she'd decided that he wasn't going to break his promise and drop dead, she followed Hotch's example and turned her attention to Jack.

Oh . . . she pouted in sympathy . . . he looked so scared. Poor baby. Hell that was scary for her, she couldn't imagine how frightening it was for him.

In Jack's mind Hotch was probably immortal.

So she crouched and pulled Jack into a hug right before turning her head to kiss his cheek. It made her heart hurt to feel how tightly he was clutching her.

He was terrified.

Looking at how his son's little fingers were pressed into Emily's arm, Hotch had another terrible stab of guilt. And he wouldn't have thought it was possible to feel any worse. But God . . . he'd _really_ scared him. He bit his lip . . . his poor baby. And he didn't know what to do to make it better.

Emily felt so badly for the guilt she could see on Hotch's face. She knew him. She knew that somehow he felt like a bad father for upsetting Jack. Because somehow in his mind it was his fault that he was hurt. And to compound whatever bad feelings he was experiencing, he couldn't even hold his son now to comfort him, to remake that connection.

Though . . . her brow wrinkled . . . maybe she could help there. So holding Jack close to her, she stood, shifting him over to her hip as she looked at Hotch, "why don't you give us both a hug?"

Hotch looked at her for a second and then nodded as he gave her a grateful smile.

That'll work too.

Stepping up to Emily's side, he put his bad hand on her back and wrapped his good arm around Jack. Leaning down he kissed his son's cheek before whispering in his ear, "don't be scared buddy. Daddy's boo boo was hurting him, but I'm okay now."

Jack lifted his head off of Emily's shoulder, and Hotch could see his eyes were still slightly moist as he turned his head to look at him. They stared at each other for a moment, Hotch aching to take him in his arms, before Jack reached over and lightly pressed his fingers to Hotch's chest.

"Is your boo boo all better?" He asked worriedly.

Running his fingers through Jack's hair Hotch gave him a sad smile, "not all better but a little bit. I'm okay though. I'm right here and Miss Emily's right here. You don't have to be scared buddy. Everything's fine."

As he looked past Jack, Hotch saw Emily biting her lip as she watched them.

Christ, he didn't know what he'd do if he didn't have her there with them right now. He'd probably be causing his son major psychological trauma. At least Emily was able to provide Jack the usual physical comfort and affection that he was accustomed to getting from his caregivers. You can't give a little boy hugs every day of his life and then just stop one day. And not just stop, he almost dropped him on the ground!

He closed his eyes for a second . . . God what if he had dropped him? Jack could have been hurt. He felt another stab of pain not related to his injury . . . he was an awful father. His eyes began to sting and he opened them, looking back over to Emily.

There was no condemnation for what he had done, only compassion. Reaching out, he touched her cheek as he whispered, "thank you."

Emily's eyes burned as she looked at him, seeing the pain and the guilt on his face. Between him and Jack she was about to start crying. She just wanted to wrap them both up and take them home with her. Not presently an option so she tried to give him a little smile.

"No thanks needed, and I'll carry him out. It's no problem."

Hotch stared at her for a moment, seeing her eyes were watering and he knew that was his fault too. He wished he could roll back the clock about ten minutes and do things differently. All things considered, they'd been having a good time until well, he fucked it up. Looking down for a second he tried to shake that off before raising his eyes to hers again, "are you sure he's not too heavy?"

Given how obvious it was that Jack was still upset Hotch hated to have to put him back on the ground now. He was clearly comforted by Emily holding him. Hotch knew the feeling. But he was just a little worried that Jack might be too heavy for her. Emily did carry him occasionally, but not for any distance. And thirty-three pounds could be a bit much to lug if you weren't used to it.

Nodding, Emily bounced Jack slightly on her hip like he weighed nothing, "absolutely positive." Then she looked over to give Jack a reassuring smile.

"GI Jack here and I can take point while you bring up the rear guard."

Jack's eyes crinkled slightly as he put his arm around her neck.

He was looking better since Hotch talked to him . . . not so pale . . . but he was still too quiet. So Emily rubbed her hand down his back as she felt another stab in her own chest.

This must be what it's like all the time when you have kids.

They hurt, you hurt.

Hotch's face softened as he watched Emily comforting his son. Then he kissed Jack's cheek again, whispering, "Miss Emily's going to carry you for now. But I'm right here, and I'm fine," Hotch squeezed his son's fingers, "I love you."

Jack was still a little too young to do an automatic 'I love you' return. Usually they'd just ask the question, 'you love me?' and then he'd say it. That's how they were teaching him. But Hotch was a little concerned that if he asked the question right now he'd get nothing but silence.

Not that he thought his son actually _hated_ him, but Jack was upset and Hotch didn't know if he was capable of their usual social interaction. If nothing else he might just be too distracted.

And if you ask the person who is your whole world, if he loves you too and you get nothing in return, well, whatever the reason behind it, Hotch didn't think his heart could take that right now. So instead he just squeezed his son's fingers again before stepping over to take Emily's other hand for the walk out of the park.

Given the fact that she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before they left, he figured that she had some idea what was going through his head. That was both comforting, and embarrassing.

He didn't like other people to see his weaknesses.

But then Hotch's expression softened as he felt her squeeze his hand. And that's when he remembered, Emily wasn't 'other people.'

She was Emily.

/*/*/*/*/*/

As they walked along the path Emily talked to Jack about the birds and the squirrels they were passing. He started getting a little bit more interactive as time passed. And it was a slow walk out. Emily was keeping a very leisurely pace so she wouldn't tax Hotch. But the pace didn't seem to matter because she could see his breathing was getting a little more strained with each step. And she wanted to stop but he insisted he was okay. She tried to let it go, foolishly hoping it would get better on its own.

Finally though . . . when she heard his breath coming in sharp pants . . . she claimed her own fatigue and sat down on the closest bench, pulling him down with her.

Of course she could see that he was embarrassed, but he absolutely needed the break. They'd been walking for less than ten minutes and ordinarily it was only a ten minute walk in total.

As it was they were only halfway to the entrance.

And knowing that this was a blow for him, she just kept rubbing her hand on his back while she kept Jack distracted with the squirrels that were running past their bench.

Usually Hotch wouldn't have been so stubborn about stopping. He had told her himself that he didn't want to set back his recovery by doing too much. But she knew he was afraid if Jack saw him appearing physically weak that it was going to scare him again. So Hotch was trying to cover and pretend like everything was normal. Clearly it wasn't. Normally Hotch would be talking to him, but he could barely keep up their slow pace, let alone participate in any conversation. And if Hotch wasn't feeling so guilty, and trying so hard to pretend everything was okay, then he would have seen that Jack watching his father drop to the ground and get carted off in an ambulance was going to be much more frightening to a three year old than sitting on the bench for five minutes.

After Hotch had caught his breath for the second time in less than twenty minutes, he reached over and squeezed Emily's knee. She looked over at him, she knew he didn't want to talk about it, not right now, so she just smiled.

"It's a nice day. Why don't we just sit for another minute?"

For a moment he stared at her, but then his eyes crinkled slightly.

"That sounds good."

Her effort to let him retain a little dignity in a very undignified situation, was much appreciated.

Seeing his little shell had softened slightly, Emily slid over and Hotch wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Then she moved Jack over to her other knee so he was sitting basically between them. She didn't feel comfortable putting him on Hotch's lap right now. Jack was little and if he got excited he might accidentally bump Hotch in a place that he was not presently bumpable.

Though Jack knew that daddy had a boo boo . . . he'd just had a major reminder of that . . . he was still just three and a half. She was thirty-nine and she forgot and accidentally hit Hotch in the wrong place. So there's no telling how long a three year old was going to remember to keep his hands clear. And given Hotch's condition right now, Emily didn't want to risk him taking any blows to the chest, even if they were from little teeny fists or elbows.

As it was he'd almost doubled over just from her girly slap.

So while Hotch rested up a bit more, Emily kept Jack busy playing word games. What color is an apple? What sound does a kitty make? Things like that. All the while she kept sneaking glances over to check Hotch's color. He was trying to occasionally interject his own questions. But he was doing the small slow breaths thing so she knew he was still in pain. And he still had a stamp of guilt on his face whenever he looked at Jack.

Basically he was a mess.

But once he'd pretty much returned to his normal skin tone, she decided it okay for them to get up. He needed to get home so he could rest properly. But she hadn't wanted to leave before because he was looking a little . . . grey. Which wasn't surprising given he probably wasn't getting proper oxygenation of his blood when he was straining to breathe.

God . . . she swallowed the lump in her throat . . . just thinking about that made her feel sick. She really wished she could just bring him home with her and take care of him. He'd never go for it though. Instead she was trying to think of some plausible reason to stop by his apartment later so she could check in on him.

Emily put her little charge on the ground and then stood herself, tickling Jack as she scooped him back up on her hip. When Jack giggled she could see the look of relief on Hotch's face.

That look was yet another thing today that was going to dig at her soul.

Then she reached down and gently pulled Hotch up off the bench.

She held his hand tightly for the rest of the walk out.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Fortunately, for everyone, Jack was pretty much back to normal by the time they reached the park entrance.

Thank God.

Emily didn't know if she could have left Hotch and his son alone if they had both looked as miserable as they had twenty minutes ago down by the duck pond. Usually they were so happy together.

That little bit of distance had been painful to see.

But as Emily looked over at Jack . . . and he immediately grinned back . . . her eyes crinkled.

Yeah, he was definitely doing okay.

So she kissed his cheek right before she let him slide to the ground. Still though, she kept a tight grasp on his little fingers even as his feet planted on the concrete.

They were back out near traffic.

Then she leaned up to give Hotch a matching kiss on his cheek as she transferred the little Hotchner's hand over to the bigger one's.

As she reached up to wipe away the lipstick smudge, Emily gave Hotch a little smile.

"Well, slight snafu notwithstanding, that was fun."

A ghost of a smile passed Hotch's lips . . . he had always loved Emily's gift for understatement.

So with a slight huff, he nodded, "yeah aside from the 'slight snafu,' it was fun."

He stared at her for a moment before his gaze dropped down to Jack. He was eyeing another worm, this one was inching across the sidewalk. Hotch looked back up at Emily as he asked quietly, "are you busy right now?"

She shook her head, "nope. I have nothing to do but finish the laundry."

Hotch stared at her for another second, he really couldn't believe he was going to ask her this. It was so embarrassing. Still though, he took a step closer and then tipped his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Could you . . ." he swallowed, "could you please come home with us? I think I might need um . . . help."

And that was about the hardest sentence that he'd ever had to utter.

He needed help. He couldn't take care of his son by himself. He knew he'd done too much today. Pushed himself too hard after he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't. And now he was terrified of having another attack and frightening Jack again. Because now that he was thinking more clearly Hotch could see, if Emily hadn't made him sit down he probably would have dropped on the sidewalk. And that would have been great.

THAT probably would have scarred Jack well into adolescence.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she reached over to rub Hotch's arm.

"Of course Aaron. Of course I'll come home with you."

Thank GOD! Now she didn't have to think up some lame excuse to pop in later. She would have been worried sick wondering what was going on with them tonight. And she knew how badly Hotch wanted to be able to make this a normal weekend for Jack. But it was obvious he was exhausted and in pain.

At this point she wasn't even sure if he would have been able to take care of himself, let alone a three year old.

Hotch gave her a grateful smile, "thank you."

It was one thing to ask your best friend to come over just to help you around the house. But it was a much bigger imposition to ask for help taking care of your child. Yeah, Jack wasn't a baby, but still, there were things that Hotch would ordinarily do for him. Things that Jack couldn't do for himself, and Hotch was seeing now, that he couldn't do them for him either.

Like how was he going to give him a bath later? That was a big one. And making his dinner? This morning they just had cereal. That was easy. And last night Haley had brought him over a little later, so it was really just having him up for about an hour before it was bedtime. They'd watched the new SpongeBob and had a quick game of Candyland.

That was nothing.

But they had another six hours before bedtime today. Jack might take a short nap, but basically that was all time that they'd be spending together and Hotch didn't know what they were going to do.

When Haley dropped Jack off she'd seen Hotch wince as their son hugged him. And she asked him then if he was sure he was up for this and he'd sworn to her that he was. Not that he thought that she was trying to take away his visitation. He'd told her what had happened when he called to ask if she could bring Jack over, explaining that he wasn't supposed to be driving for a few more days. And it was clear that her concern for his condition at that time was genuine.

But her concern for their son's welfare obviously was genuine as well. So when he's promised her today that he could handle things, she'd given him a reluctant nod before making his promise to call if he needed her to come back.

But he didn't want her to come back.

He had so little time with Jack that he didn't want to send him home. But maybe he should have postponed the visit for a couple days. It was just that he'd been doing so well with Emily there, that he he thought things were better than they were. But he was exhausted from a short walk around park. And as he checked his watch he saw it wasn't even three yet.

It felt like midnight.

He looked back over to Emily.

"Do you need to go home first?"

She shook her head, "no, I realized after I got home yesterday that I left my last load of laundry in your dryer so I have clothes at your place. Though," she wrinkled her nose, "do you have an extra toothbrush?"

Usually when she was over she had her ready bag with her.

Biting his lip he thought for a second before nodding, "yeah," then his lip quirked up slightly, "it has SpongeBob on it."

Clearly he was not living the bachelor lifestyle that Dave wished he would. His extra toothbrushes for overnight guests had cartoon characters on them.

Emily's lips twitched for a second but she quickly sobered as she watched the sadness flicker back across Hotch's face. She sighed . . . he never could let anything go.

So she stepped forward before leaning up to wrap her arm around his neck. Then she pressed her lips to his ear.

"Aaron, he won't even remember it tomorrow," she rubbed his back lightly, "you're still a good daddy."

Hotch felt his eyes burning as he slid his bad arm over to Emily's waist. For a moment he held her the best that he could, waiting until he had his voice under control.

And then he finally whispered, "thank you."

Sometimes her ability to read his mind was a little frightening. And then at times like this . . . he squeezed his fingers into her side . . . it was a gift. She would say just the right thing, the one thing that would pull him back from the dark edge. Because that's always where he went, and that's always where she followed. He just hoped that she was right, that he wouldn't remember being so frightened of his father that he almost cried.

Because Hotch couldn't bear it if he'd hurt him that badly.

But maybe now . . . Hotch blinked the tears away . . . maybe if she came home with them, then Jack would just remember a fun day with Miss Emily. And this would be a treat for him. She would be there for dinner and bath time, and story time.

So yeah . . . Hotch started to feel hopeful . . . maybe that's all Jack would remember about today.

Emily.

As she pulled back, Emily touched Hotch's cheek as she gave him a sad smile. She knew that's what had been bothering him. And just like she knew how much Hotch wanted to give Jack a hug, she desperately wanted to give him one too. He tried so hard, it wasn't fair that something like this could throw his confidence so completely. He was a good father. Jack obviously adored him. But right now she knew all Hotch could see when he looked at his son was the fear he'd had on his face earlier. Jack wasn't completely back to his usual buoyant self, but he had obviously moved further past that moment than his father had.

She looked between the two of them, feeling a tug in her chest . . . her poor boys. And she did feel possessive of them, even though neither of them were technically hers.

Stepping back slightly, she ran her hand down Hotch's arm, brushing over his fingers before she let go. No hugs . . . and she couldn't even hold his hand. He had Jack on his good side. Now that she was going home with them she could just pick up Jack and carry him again. But as she looked at Jack's little hand in his father's bigger one, she knew the two of them needed that connection right now.

Well, she tried to look on the bright side, at least they could cuddle later. She felt a sad smile touch her lips, and that was infinitely better than nothing. Though she just wished that she could do something for him now. And she sighed.

If wishes were horses . . . yada yada.

She shook her head and went over to take Jack's other hand for the short walk up the street.

* * *

_A/N 2: This is another flashback chapter from The Hours. There's a scene where Derek recalls a photo falling out of Hotch's wallet, and the photo is of Emily and Jack feeding the ducks. I wrote both flashbacks. The actual duck feeding you just read, plus much later we'll get a chapter completely from Derek's point of view related to the picture itself._

_Originally this was supposed to be a light chapter. In the Hours clearly I would have been thinking of feeding the ducks as a nice fun little activity, so that was the original plan. There was just the duck feeding portion, Hotch was a little slower on his feet, he did have the twinge (not the spasm), but he recovered more quickly. It wasn't a big thing. But then I was thinking about it, this is the first day he's really tried to DO anything. Thursday they wrapped up at the station and they flew home. Then he spent the next 36 hrs laying around the house with Emily. She was waiting on him hand and foot and he had nice drugs in his system. Now he's by himself, he's looking after Jack and he's off his percs. So really he has NO business leaving the house. They should have stayed home and played Candy Land._

_Just the usual very short walk to the park, that's going to be quite taxing, so he would have been exhausted just getting to the park. Because the thing with the bruised ribs is it hurts to breathe normally. So even if he was just sucking that up, (because that's what you'd do), that slight bit of exertion with the walk would have required him to breath just a little harder, which would have hurt just a little bit more. And that would have been enough to start messing with him. So then by the time he tried to pick up Jack, it was completely a downhill slide. _

_And looking at it from a three year old's point of view, that would be scary. Especially because Hotch DIDN'T bounce back right away. It wasn't like bumping his arm and he shakes it off. Jack would have seen there was something wrong. _

_I will be following this day forward. That's why I haven't been posting. I wasn't planning on going down this road at all. Like I said this was supposed to be a lighter chapter overall. A snippet piece really. And then I was going to have a follow up with Emily popping in later to check on them. But that was when Hotch wasn't physically and emotionally a mess. But now I've gone this other way, inserted the angst, which I thought was more realistic, it's been harder to pull together. I've sort of half-assed written the next two chapters. And because there are all these issues of dependence and boundaries and family dynamics, they're very interconnected and I sort of keep popping things out of one section and putting them into others. It's been a rough ride! But I thought at least this portion finally came to a full stop. We will be picking up with them once they get back to Hotch's. I'd say there are probably at least three more chapters covering this whole weekend, possibly four. _

_See I wasn't planning on doing ANY of this, so this right here is how you end up getting a story that goes on for (at last count on the master) 142 chapters. Redamndiculous is what that is!_

_One little side note about Canadian Geese. When my nephew was Jack's age he couldn't say geese, but for some reason he COULD say Canadian. So it always came out "Canadian geeks." Which was really unfortunate because they were living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at the time, right near the border so there were a lot of Canadians around, both of the human and avian variety. And he liked the big birds so he'd be pointing and saying, "look Auntie, Canadian Geeks!" No offense to my readers up north, but it was funny. But of course depending on the proximity of the fowl and the people, occasionally an apologetic explanation was in order.  
_

_Next: "__**The New Normal**__"_


	95. The New Normal

**Author's Note**: The same afternoon. Picks up right when they get to Hotch's.

*******************************************

_Early October: Saturday_

**The New Normal**

The five blocks from the park to his building sucked the last of Hotch's energy. And by the time they got back to his apartment he was about ready to collapse.

But he was careful to keep all signs of that from Jack.

Mind over matter could work when you just needed to keep your shit together for a few seconds at a time when you talked to a three year old. They weren't the most observational subgroup of individuals. So provided Hotch didn't actually moan or gasp in pain clutching his chest like he did in the park, then Jack was none the wiser.

It also helped that Emily was running interference. She'd been doing everything possible to keep Jack's attention off of his father. Hotch didn't know she even knew that much trivia about the Muppets. It definitely wasn't on her resume.

Emily wrapped up her last story about Miss Piggy as she brought the Hotchner boys into the kitchen. Hotch got a glass of milk and two Motrin. Jack got a juice box and some Teddy Grahams. Then she took Jack by the hand and set him up with his Shrek DVD in the living room. She hated to just prop him in front of the television rather than playing with him, but given the big grin she got when the music started she didn't think he minded her choice of activity for him at the moment. Her eyes crinkled and she gave him a kiss, telling him she'd be back in a few minutes.

Going back into the kitchen she found Hotch with his head on the table. Pouting she went over and knelt down next to him, rubbing his back as she asked sympathetically.

"Are you okay?"

Opening his eyes, he nodded slightly, "yeah, just resting for a second." He sat up and raised his eyebrow when he saw Emily's mouth quivering. She cleared her throat.

"Did you guys have cereal for breakfast?"

He furrowed his brow, "yeah, why?"

Giggling she reached over to pull a loose cheerio off of his cheek, holding it up in front of him.

His eyes crinkled, "oh."

She smiled, dropping the cheerio back on the table as slipped herself under his side. If he was tired enough to put his face down on a cheerio without even noticing she figured he could use a little support going down the hall. For both their sakes she just tried to pretend it was the usual, 'Hotch has his arm around her for affectionate purposes,' and not 'Hotch has his arm around her so he doesn't collapse on the ground.'

It was basically the same move but for a slight shifting of weight one way or the other. He wasn't leaning on her as much as he had on Thursday.

But ordinarily he didn't lean on her at all. So as much as she wanted to, she couldn't pretend this was just the usual.

They poked their heads into the living room to check on Jack but he was in the zone. Hotch said he was usually a little tired after the park so he was fine just watching his movie.

After that they continued down to his room and Emily got him settled on the bed. Hotch immediately closed his eyes again and she started backing towards the door as she said softly.

"I'll go out and sit with Jack."

Still with his eyes shut, Hotch shook his head, "he's okay for a couple minutes. You don't have to leave right away."

Emily remembered then that Jack was almost four. Certainly old enough to sit by himself and watch cartoons. They were just down the hall.

It's just that Emily was used to being with Jack out in public. The park, the circus, McDonald's, places where you had to keep your guard up. Watch for predators. But they were inside now, guns were locked up, doors were dead bolted.

Jack was safe.

For the first time since this little boy had come into her life, she didn't need to stand guard. That was an unexpectedly liberating moment. She didn't realize before how she was usually a little tense worrying about him when they were out.

Okay . . . she nodded to herself . . . Jack was definitely all set for now so she turned back to Hotch lying on his back. His eyes were shut but she knew he wasn't sleeping. She sat down on the end of the bed, and her heart ached a little when she saw his hand automatically stretch out for her.

It was obvious he needed their physical contact as much as she did. Reaching over she grasped his fingers and though his lids were still shut, she saw his eyes crinkle slightly.

"You going to stay way down there?"

"No," she crawled over and laid down on the pillow next to him, "I'm here."

Opening one eye, he looked at her, "you're still too far away."

Since when was she so shy? Usually she was all over him. So to speak.

Slightly sheepish, Emily stared at the ceiling, "but what about Jack?"

Hotch opened his other eye and wrinkled his brow in confusion, "what about Jack?"

Emily tipped her head over on the pillow so she could see him.

"Well, won't it be weird if he sees Miss Emily in bed with daddy?"

Hotch snorted, "Emily we're completely clothed. Of all the things that have happened today that hold the possibility of scarring his little mind, this does not make the list."

She tipped her head, he had a point there.

Seeing he'd allayed her fears about Jack, Hotch tugged her hand, "now come see me," he looked over sadly, "I've had kind of a bad day."

Emily pouted as she rolled over, closing the gap between them.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she wrapped herself around his side, "I know you had a bad day. I'm sorry. But it'll be okay, I really don't think he'll remember any of it. You just need to rest and let yourself heal," her voice brightened, "and just think how good a shape you'll be in for next weekend," she patted his stomach, "you might not be 100% but I'm sure you'll be ten times better."

Hotch's face softened as he tipped his head down to rest against hers. Emily was always the Sunny Side Up Girl. And she always made him feel better. It used to just be helping him deal with the terrible things they saw at work, but now he needed her for domestic crises as well.

He rubbed her shoulder, he really didn't know what he would do without her.

Closing his eyes again he tried to think of a way to get Emily AND Jack on the couch with him. That sounded like nirvana, but he didn't think that one was going to fly in his present condition. Damn. He made a mental note though, a double cuddle was something he definitely needed to do when he was well.

Then he felt a flood of disappointment . . . Emily wasn't usually over at the same time Jack was. Today was an aberration. They usually just saw her in the park. His brow furrowed . . . he might need to do something about that. But he was distracted from further deliberation on that topic when he felt her hands moving. Biting his lip, he opened his eyes and shifted his gaze down the length of his body. To his amusement he could see she was untucking his shirt. His eyes crinkled as his gaze shifted to her face.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me in my weakened condition?"

Huffing she looked up at him, "I think I had my big chance in the shower. Now it would just be effort." She patted his stomach, "actually I was thinking you need to change, you got mud on this." Then her eyes widened as she looked up at him in horror.

"OH SHIT!"

Perplexed Hotch looked down at her, "what's the matter?"

Pushing herself up, she turned her head to look down at the sheet.

"Damn it!"

She'd forgotten about her jeans. They were filthy and now there was mud all over the bed. Fortunately it was mostly dried chunks, but still, it was a mess.

Hotch craned his neck and then said drily, "oops."

Emily looked down in dismay, "very big oops."

God! Who tracks mud on somebody else's bed!? It was bad enough when you did it on the carpet.

Seeing she was genuinely upset he patted her hand, "it's okay. Like you said before, it's just dirt. It'll come out. And even if it doesn't, we got these sheets at IKEA, we can just go get another set." He eyed her suspiciously, "that wasn't your master plan was it? Trying to force me into yet another shopping trip."

Emily said drolly, "yeah, you got me. I tricked you into feeding the ducks with me so I could get mud on my clothes and come back here and roll around on your bed. I did that in the hopes of maybe getting another shopping trip to IKEA."

Sighing Hotch closed his eyes again, "I figured as much."

He started taking slow even breaths; he was hoping maybe he could just will his body to heal. Given he still felt like someone had jammed a hot poker into his side AFTER they ran him down with a steamroller, he didn't think he was particularly successful with that element of the mind over matter approach.

Emily's lip quirked up as she looked over at him, then she squeezed his fingers, "hey sleepyhead, I need to change the sheets before you take a nap."

When he didn't answer her she was afraid he had already passed out and she leaned closer, trying to see if he was asleep.

Feeling Emily's breath on his face, Hotch opened his eyes directly onto hers. His lip quirked up as he touched her cheek, "hi pretty girl."

Blushing slightly Emily's lips twitched, "I wasn't expecting you to open your eyes right then."

Hotch raised his eyebrow, "so what exactly _were_ you planning on doing while my eyes were closed?"

She raised her own eyebrow, "you mean after I drew the gaucho mustache?" Furrowing his brow, Hotch brought his hand up to touch his lip and Emily laughed, "I didn't really draw on you! I was just seeing if you were sleeping. Didn't you hear me? I need to get the muddy stuff off the bed," she touched his shirt, "and I need to wash your shirt too."

Wincing, Hotch pushed himself up slightly, "okay," he started unbuttoning his shirt and then Emily gently pushed his fingers aside. When he looked up he saw her smiling softly at him.

"I'll do it. You should try and keep that other arm as still as you can tonight. You've already pulled at your chest too much today."

Right now she figured most of his problem was sheer exhaustion. But if he pushed himself any harder he probably really would end up tearing something else.

Sighing in disgust, he nodded slightly as his eyes dropped to the bed, "I guess you're right," his voice faded, "thanks."

This was a setback. He'd been okay dressing himself that morning. Okay, yeah that was post a hot shower and about twenty minutes after he'd loaded on anti-inflammatories. But still, he'd been able to get his shirt on and button it up. Granted he needed to rest in between those actions, and it took twice as long as usual, but he was still able to do it. Now he was back to day one. Emily having to dress him like he was a child.

Feeling Emily's weight on him again he looked up at her in surprise.

Emily moved over slightly, wrapping her leg around his right thigh. Then she reached up and touched his face as she said sadly, "you need a hug. I thought this might work."

Leaning forward Emily wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his side. Careful to keep her body angled to the right. As she felt Hotch's arm slip around her waist, she turned her head slightly and whispered in his ear.

"It's only temporary. I'm sure after you get some rest you'll be able to do these things for yourself again tomorrow. And in the meantime," she pressed her lips to his skin, "that's what I'm here for." Then she moved her hand up slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to get some of the tension to leave.

Feeling his eyes begin to burn, Hotch nodded slightly. He wanted to say thank you, but he didn't trust his voice. There was no proper thank you for someone helping you like this. These little menial things you should be able to do for yourself. It was humiliating when you couldn't. But she was doing them for him without resentment or irritation. He felt nothing from her right now but love and concern.

Pulling back slightly, Emily's eyes began to water as she saw the moisture in his eyes. She hated to see him so down. Running her fingers along his jaw, she leaned in and kissed him. It was just a quick peck on the mouth but it was enough to make his eyes crinkle slightly and she smiled back.

She really wanted to change the damn sheets before the mud set but she figured one more minute wouldn't make a difference. He badly needed some TLC right now so she moved over to lay back down at his side again. Tucking herself against him she lightly rubbed circles on his shoulder. As he tightened his grip around her, she realized he was holding her almost as desperately as Jack had in the park. She did a quick recall of their shopping trip, remembered the sheets only cost thirty bucks, and decided to just buy him a new set. Because at the moment she thought the best investment of her time was to simply lay here with him until he felt better.

Hotch leaned his head against Emily's and closed his eyes again. He was tired . . . so tired, but he wasn't trying to go to sleep. He just wanted to feel her with him. His alone time with Emily was like being in a cocoon. If he closed out the rest of the world, just focused on the warmth of her body against his and the comfort she was offering, when he came back out of the cocoon, he would be renewed. It had happened before.

Unfortunately though, even Emily's magical powers had limits, so this couldn't fix his battered chest. But he just needed to find his center again. What happened with Jack had really shaken him. His relationship with his son, that bond, was the one constant in his life. And today there had been a ripple in it. Today, for the first time, he'd truly caused his child grief.

That hurt him more than any physical pain he had experienced.

After a few minutes with her pressed against him he started to feel a little better. Enough that he was starting to drift off. And he knew he couldn't do that yet so he forced his eyes open. They felt gritty but he ignored it. Emily wanted to change the sheets and wash his shirt. Oddly enough, he knew that would make her happy so he patted her arm and she lifted her head to look at him. He quirked his lip up, "you may undress me now."

Flashing him a quick grin, Emily made quick work of his buttons and helped him slip one arm out of his shirt. When she leaned over him to get the other sleeve Hotch's lip quirked up as he saw a leaf in her hair. Reaching up, he pulled it out and dropped it on the bed beside him. A second later Emily dropped his shirt on top of the leaf and then wrinkled her nose as she looked at him apologetically.

"I need the sheets too. The stain might already be set but I still need to wash them."

He nodded slightly and she rolled completely off of him and over to the other side of the bed where she started untucking the corners. Dropping his legs over to the floor, he pushed himself up, appreciating Emily's effort to let him do something himself.

Tugging the bottom sheet to the floor, Emily checked to make sure all the dried mud was contained. She'd shake it before she threw it in the wash. Then she looked over at Hotch, her eyes automatically going to the bruises on his bare chest. And just as she did the first time she saw them, her eyes began to tear up.

God, they looked so much worse today. She knew that was just his body healing though. Bruises always look worse before they look better. She quickly blinked away the tears, they didn't need any more of those, and went back to the matter at hand.

Laundry.

She twirled her finger around and Hotch turned, Emily's brow furrowed when she saw there was mud on him too. Nothing like what was on her though. She must have dropped into a squishy spot and hadn't noticed. Looking around his room she saw that there were a pair of her pajama pants on his dresser. Wrinkling her brow she tried to remember when she left those but then decided it didn't matter. Looking back at him she saw he was still staring at her not saying a word. He looked so tired. She gave him a little smile.

"You have mud on your pants too. Strip."

Lips twitching Hotch started fussing with his belt buckle, "bet you say that to all the guys."

Emily was in the process of unbuckling her own belt and she looked up to shoot him a dirty look. It disappeared though when he saw the slight bit of amusement on his face. She smiled. He was cheering up a little and she couldn't be happier to see it.

Recovery was in large part a mental thing and she was so afraid that after today he might have gotten a little depressed. But his injuries could have been so much worse. Really the doctor had told him he'd probably be completely back to normal within three or four weeks. Mostly his injuries were soft tissue, and those looked really bad, but they would heal relatively quickly. It was just this first week, while the muscle repaired itself which was going to be the biggest trial for him.

Furrowing her brow she stared at the carpet for a moment, wondering if he'd let her stay with him for a couple more days. If nothing else she was planning on picking him up for work on Monday. He might think he'd be well enough to drive by then but she was hoping to get that pushed off until Tuesday or Wednesday. As to the other stuff though, she didn't know.

Eh . . . she unfastened her jeans . . . she'd see how he was doing tomorrow. She didn't want to dump anything else on him tonight.

With no concern about Hotch being five feet away she shimmied out of her jeans. Situations that would have raised greater issues of modesty a week ago were non issues now. They took a shower together two days earlier. With the t-shirt plastered to her body, and then her wet body plastered to his when she was crying, he already a very clear outline of everything she had going on down there. Of course she had no intention of walking around naked in front of him. That would just be weird, they weren't sleeping together and Hotch most definitely was not gay. You don't walk around naked in front of a heterosexual man that you know finds you attractive unless you're some kind of tease.

Of course as she thought about it she wouldn't walk around naked in front of a gay man either. Or really anyone. She was not one of those weird exhibitionist women at the gym. Like it was going to kill them to grab a towel getting out of the shower!

Freaks.

And she had all the same equipment! If she was looking for a comparison she'd go watch Cinemax. No basically, she was anti-full naked unless she was in a relationship with that person.

But this wasn't naked, naked, and Hotch was actually seeing less now than he had a couple days ago. Now she was dry and had on a bra so it was much less sexual. And she wasn't exposing anything at the moment except her legs, and okay . . . she looked down . . . a little bit of her underwear.

_That_ he hadn't seen the other day.

But she was rather particular about her underwear. It had to be comfortable, and it had to cover everything it was intended to cover. Otherwise what the hell was the point of wearing it? So she was wearing a pair of plain blue cotton shorts in a boy cut. Very modest. A week ago she still would have stepped into the bathroom to change because that's just what you did, but now it seemed rather silly. And her shirt came down to her hips so she actually was covered more than she would have been in a bathing suit.

Her adamancy about proper undergarments had come from her Catholic mother. Her mom had always told her "only slutty girls leave the house without underpants Emily."

Emily and her mother might not have always seen eye to eye but that was one piece of parental advice with which Emily had agreed. Because seriously, what the hell were you planning on doing that leaving the house wearing underwear was going to be an impediment to those activities? Yeah, exactly.

Going over to the dresser Emily picked up her pajama pants and shook them out in front of her. They were green with little brown Guinness glasses on them. And . . . her eyes dropped down . . . her shirt was red. Wrinkling her nose she looked up at Hotch.

"My pajamas don't match my shirt."

Dropping his own jeans to the ground he was still looking down as he tried to step out of them without falling over, "well then obviously you're going to have to walk around half naked for the rest of the night," looking up he eyed her critically, "because you know I have a very strict dress code."

Rolling her eyes Emily walked over to help him step out of the jeans pooled by his feet. As he leaned on her back she leaned down to tug on his pant leg, "I'm just saying, I'm going to look rather foolish if we see anyone."

Taking a step backwards Hotch half grimaced half snorted, "who are we going to see? I wasn't planning on throwing a dinner party tonight." Hotch suddenly stiffened up as he heard a giggle from the living room.

"OH SHIT!"

Alarmed, Emily looked up, "what's wrong?" God, she hoped he hadn't just pulled something.

"Jack," Hotch gestured between them, "now THIS is the kind of thing that he probably shouldn't be walking in on." Raising his eyebrow he looked down at the full expanse of her bare leg, "this will raise questions."

He started to look up when his eyes caught on a patch of discolored flesh on her upper thigh. Her shirt had been longer in the shower so he hadn't seen it the other day. Then he realized he was staring at something she probably didn't want him staring at and he quickly looked back up to her face. Fortunately his observation about Jack had Emily sufficiently distracted that she hadn't noticed his momentary lapse in manners. It was just a scar, he had lots of them, she probably did too. He snuck another quick glance down . . . his brow furrowing . . . he just didn't like the look of that particular scar.

Emily's eyes widened, "oh crap! I didn't even think of that."

Man, what if he told Haley he walked in on Daddy and his friend Miss Emily and they had no clothes on? That would be great. Yeah, they were divorced, and she and Hotch did in fact _have_ clothes on, but still, that just _sounded_ like something a little kid would say.

And it _sounded_ SO bad!

Hurrying over she grabbed her pajamas off the dresser, fashion faux paus or not, she needed to put some pants on now before she became part of some custody discussion.

Then she opened Hotch's second drawer and pulled out a pair of black ones for him.

Hotch had just moved back over to sit down on the bed and he tipped his head in bewilderment, "how did you know where I kept my pajamas?"

Coming over and kneeling down in front of him she responded, "after I did your laundry yesterday I put your stuff away. Ordinarily I would have just put it on your dresser but I didn't want you stooping and bending putting everything away yourself."

As he leaned on her slightly she wrinkled her brow before she helped him pull his pajamas the rest of the way up. Then she looked up at him in concern, "should I not have gone into your dresser? It didn't occur to me then, but maybe that was kind of personal."

She knew Hotch would tell her if she stepped over a line. Their relationship was very honest.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he stared at her.

"Emily you just stood half naked in front of me while you took off my pants. And now you're kneeling down on my bedroom floor, dressing me again," he ran his finger down her cheek, "I think we're well past concerns about things being 'kind of personal.'"

She chuckled, "yeah, I guess you're right." She quirked her lip up, "feel free to rifle through my dresser the next time you're over. The good stuff's in the bottom drawer."

His lips twitched, "I'll make a mental note."

Emily's eyes crinkled, and then using his knee as leverage, she pushed herself up. Looking first at his chest and then up to his face, "I know you're never cold but you should try and keep the muscles warm." She went over to his closet, pulling out the hoodie he'd been wearing around the house the day before and she helped him put that on too.

After she zipped him up, he tugged her down, kissing her forehead and brushing her hair back behind her ear.

"Thanks."

Hotch wasn't going to walk around the house with no shirt on but he probably would have taken his nap just as he was. But she was right, he should keep the muscles from getting tight.

She just smiled and patted his cheek before leaning down to pick up his jeans to bring over to the pile of dirty laundry. Then she realized from their heft that neither of them had emptied their pockets before they got undressed.

Holding his pants by the belt loop, she pulled out his phone, his badge and his wallet, placing them on the desk before she went over and dropped the jeans onto the small pile of laundry. Then she picked up her own pants off the floor, going back to the desk to pull out the same three items from her pocket that she'd pulled from his. Plus she also had one set of house keys with her. His were on the table by the door.

After she was done with all that she looked up to see Hotch giving her a tired smile. She pouted. Poor Aaron, he looked so exhausted. And the lines on his face were etched a little deeper than usual. It was obvious he was still in a lot of pain. She went over and kissed his cheek before rubbing her hand down his arm and squeezing his hand, "you take a nap, I'll throw in the laundry and go sit with Jack. I'll make the bed again after you get up."

She knew he was tired so he could just lay on the mattress pad for now. Her lip quirked up, at least she knew his clothes were clean.

His eyes crinkled as he nodded and squeezed back, "okay."

He watched as she gathered everything up, and when she glanced over at him one more time he winked at her and she smiled as she whispered, "go to sleep. Then she leaned down to drag the laundry out into the hall before pulling the door shut behind her. His eyes crinkled as he stared at the door for a second, then through the power of suggestion, he yawned.

Yes, going to sleep sounded like an excellent idea. But there was one thing he wanted to do first. Download the photos he'd taken today. He was afraid if he forgot he'd end up erasing them with pictures of some homicide victim.

With a pained moan he pushed himself off the bed and went over to his desk. He plugged his laptop into his printer and then his phone into his laptop. Fortunately the cables were right there in front of him so he didn't have to rummage around for anything.

His eyes crinkled as he saw the images appear on the screen. Both Jack and Emily were laughing in every shot, and the ducks were clear in the background of all of them too.

They all came out really well. He was impressed. These camera phones were getting better and better.

Hotch actually liked the whole set but they weren't really dissimilar enough to print out all of them. So he finally decided on the best one to save. The determination on 'best' was made because that was the one where he'd called their names and they'd both turned to look at him. He could see both of their faces clearly, he smiled, and they were both still laughing.

Knowing Emily would want a copy for herself, he put in a few extra pieces of photo paper in the printer. Then he stared at the picture for a moment, trying to decide what sizes to print out. Finally he made his selections and hit print.

Photo printing always took a little longer so he went into the bathroom and took another Motrin while he was waiting. The dose he took in the kitchen hadn't done anything for him. When he came back out, the last photo was just coming through the printer. Pulling out the two larger copies, he put those aside, one each for him and Emily. Then he looked down at the last little picture. Taking the scissors, he trimmed off the excess white paper before opening his wallet.

His eyes crinkled as he looked down at the photo in his hand. This one would definitely come in handy when he was having a bad day. He traced their happy faces with the tip of his finger, and then with a sigh, he tucked the picture into the back sleeve of his wallet.

He pushed the other two photos to the middle of his desk so he wouldn't forget to get frames when he went to the store with Emily tomorrow night. He really wished he could bring his copy to work with him but there was no way he could have a picture of Emily on his desk. Maybe if it was a group shot of the team, but certainly not a picture of just her with his son. That would be . . . misconstrued.

Though . . . his lip quirked up . . . it might be worth it to see the look on Strauss' face.

Taking a breath, he pushed himself up, heading back to the bed. Lying down with a groan, he closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

He dreamt of Jack and Emily, and baby ducks. He wouldn't remember it later . . . but it was a good dream.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: There are a couple more chapters for tonight and yes, we will eventually get to bath time. _

_And, I wrote an alternate version of this chapter. It's actual an alternate ENDING for the entire Girl story. It was not at all planned but there's a moment in this chapter where my instinct was to go another way. And I like to go with my instincts, but that way would have been a game changer so I had to do it a little differently here. BUT, I went back and rewrote that segment and then carried it forward. _

_So I guess I have now written the first alternate chapter that will actually be a concluding chapter. Horses is still trucking along in another direction and the baby story (which should start going up shortly) has its own arc to follow. So you will get some payoff a little earlier than I had planned. Hopefully though you'll still stick with the big picture story too :) The alternate is called Epiphanies, and it's all done so it'll be up a little later tonight._

_Emily's thoughts about underwear. That's from the Hours, when she collapsed she was adamant about getting completely dressed before she left the house because she has never left the house without underwear. This was the little back story and her mom being Catholic (and my mom being Catholic) that worked for me. And on a related note, I will NEVER write the word "panties." It's like some people have their skin crawl when they hear the word 'moist', yeah the P word, that's the same thing for me. Bleh, it just drives me insane! It bothered me typing it just now. I bring it up because it was hard writing that paragraph without the redundancy because that synonym was not available for use._

_This little extra weekend arc has given me the opportunity to explore that dependency dynamic that Emily had with Hotch in The Hours. Obviously not to the same extent but I do feel like I was able to even them out a little bit more. Especially because him being the more 'dominant' partner it would be harder for him anyway._

_Next: "__**Talks About Clocks**__"_


	96. Talks About Clocks

**Author's Note**: Still Saturday, picking up post nap.

**Unrelated story post**: If you haven't seen it, I put up a new offshoot of _Girl_ which takes place early season 3. It's called _Ladybug, Ladybug . . . Fly Away Home_. It's about Emily's 39th birthday.

* * *

_Early October: Saturday_

**Talks About Clocks **

Hotch woke up a few hours after Emily left him.

He had one window in his bedroom . . . and he could tell from the shadows crossing the room . . . that it was close to dinner time. His side was still hurting more than it had been yesterday, but not quite as much as it had been earlier in the day.

This was probably the regular pain, he realized. He'd just gotten a little spoiled with the Percocets. Not that he'd even been taking a full dose of those before . . . just one in the morning and one at night . . . but apparently just having the narcotic in his system had been taking the edge off. And he was starting to see something new now.

That edge was pretty sharp.

But at least he was no longer at a level of 'crippling exhaustion.' The nap had helped both that, and his breathing. Because as Hotch slowly inhaled, he noted that there was no longer any notable 'rasping' in his lungs.

Good.

Very good. That had actually been worrying him in the park. And even though she hadn't said anything, he knew it had been worrying Emily too. The possibility of a respiratory problem developing was one of the few serious complications to be concerned about with his type of injury. So in an effort to avoid pneumonia or anything else down the road, the doctor had told him to try to breathe normally as much as possible, even if it hurt.

Which it did.

It hurt quite a bit at first. But again, he'd gotten used to it. You suck it up and keep moving.

People lived with stuff a hell of a lot worse than this.

Not to mention, he was already familiar with the pain. Because this wasn't the first time that Hotch had had bruised ribs.

Gerald had liked to leave his marks where other people couldn't see them.

But Hotch had been so much younger then . . . and even though they'd still hurt like a bastard . . . he'd been able to cover better. But of course his body forty plus year old body didn't bounce back from _anything_ as quickly as it did when he was a teenager.

_Who's did?_

Still though, he'd been doing pretty well all things considered. It was only when he'd pushed himself too hard . . . and then had that freaking spasm . . . that it had all gone to hell. But given that the pain and his breathing were both notably better now, the nap had definitely had some recuperative powers.

And after slowly shifting his body around, he dropped his feet to the carpet . . . and then he paused for a moment to gauge the pain before he stood up.

After deciding . . . with a faint wince . . . that it wasn't any worse sitting than it was lying down, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He debated taking another Motrin but decided he should probably eat something first. It was dinnertime anyway and on top of all of his other issues at the moment he didn't want to burn a hole in his stomach.

Grabbing his and Emily's cell phones off of his desk, he headed out to find his two temporary housemates to see what they wanted for dinner.

When he walked into the living, his eyes crinkled and he stopped short.

It appeared that Emily had found somebody else to cuddle with.

Jack was sprawled out on top of Emily with his head tucked under her chin. Her arms were wrapped around him. And as he came around to the front of the couch, it was clear that they were both sound asleep. And seeing them together like that . . . so maternal . . . gave Hotch a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury. And they looked so peaceful that he hated to wake them up. He turned to check the time on the cable box.

6:14

Damn. Jack had to go to bed at eight. Which meant that he had to wake them up now so they would have time to eat and give Jack his bath. Hotch wasn't so much worried about Jack falling asleep again. He almost always took a nap after they got home from playing with Emily. His lip quirked up as he looked down at them.

He had a feeling now that Emily probably usually took a nap too. Which would make sense, they generally did a lot of running around.

Also there was twirling, tag and somersaults.

Hotch participated in tag, NOT twirling or somersaults. When they were engaging in those activities his title was that of Spotter and General Repairer of Scrapes, Scratches and Boo Boos. Emily had actually christened him that. And he realized he was going to have to relinquish his title temporarily to Emily until his own boo boos were cleared up.

So Hotch knelt down in front of the couch and put the phones on the table. Then he leaned forward to brush Emily's bangs back so he could kiss her forehead.

A second later her eyes slowly opened. And when she saw him in front of her, he got a sleepy grin.

"Hey there, when did you get up?"

Her voice was a little scratchy.

His eyes crinkled. "Just now," then he tipped his head towards her companion. "And I see that I've been replaced."

Emily smiled as her eyes shifted over to Jack . . . her hand rubbed slowly down his back.

"Yep, I moved to a younger model." And then in a typical Emily non sequitur, when she looked back up at him she announced flatly.

"I'm hungry."

His lips twitched . . . of course.

"That's why I woke you up. It's dinner time," he reached down to brush her hair back, "would you like spaghetti? It'll be quick and I'm pretty sure I have a jar of sauce."

For all the takeout that he ordinarily ate, Hotch tried to make sure Jack always had a home cooked dinner. And even if he was short on groceries, spaghetti was the one thing that was pretty much guaranteed to be in the cabinet.

Tightening her hold on Jack, Emily nodded as she sat up slightly, "yeah, spaghetti sounds good," her face brightened, "oh and hey, we only ate one of the salads yesterday. Spaghetti and Greek salad sounds _really_ good!"

With a slow exhale Hotch pushed himself back to his feet.

"Yeah that does sound good." He looked back down to Jack still sound asleep slumped against Emily's breast. Hotch's lip quirked up as he gestured with his chin.

"Do you want to do the honors?"

She smiled, turning to kiss Jack's cheek before whispering in his ear, "time to wake up baby." Jack squirmed slightly and Emily's crinkled as she tried again, "come on sleepyhead. Open your eyes. Your daddy's awake and we're going to make spaghetti."

Jack's eyes popped open and he gave her a questioning look. "Sketti?"

Emily sat up further, leaning back against the couch as she tucked him into her side, "yep, spaghetti."

Jack rubbed his eyes with one little fist.

"I like sketti."

Her lip quirked up, "that's good honey because that's what we're having for dinner."

With a full body twisting yawn, Jack wiggled around before leaning back against Emily's chest again.

His eyes were still kind of droopy.

But then he saw Hotch standing over him and his whole persona transformed. He was suddenly wide awake as she flashed him a brilliant grin.

"Hi, daddy! Miss Emily and I fell'ded asleep just like you."

Feeling a faint sting to his eyes, Hotch's heart began to fill. He'd been so afraid that Jack would be scared of him. But Emily was right.

It wasn't even tomorrow yet and he seemed just fine.

He reached down to brush his fingers along his cheek.

"Hi bud. Yeah, I saw you fell asleep," then his eyebrow inched up, "did you have a good nap with Miss Emily?"

"Uh huh," Jack nodded seriously, "she's soft like mommy."

Hotch's lips began to twitch as he tipped his head, "that's true, she is soft like mommy."

Then his gaze snapped up to see Emily's mouth quivering.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the three year old boy's take on breasts. And in an attempt to quickly change the subject before Jack asked _why_ Emily was soft like mommy . . . he was hoping to put that conversation off for another eight or nine years . . . Hotch put his hand out for Jack to climb down.

"Come on bud, we have to let Miss Emily get up."

As Jack climbed down off of her Emily suddenly felt a wave of sadness at the loss of contact. It was nice having a little warm body sleeping on top of her. Her damn clock was starting to tick louder the more time she spent with Jack. She wanted a baby. She hadn't been sure before but she was quite positive now. She loved Jack dearly but . . . he wasn't hers. And as much as it pained her, she knew he was never going to be hers. She only got to see him for a couple hours a week, and that was a gift.

A wonderful gift of time that Hotch had given to her.

But she and Hotch weren't a couple. So even if Jack didn't already have a mommy that loved him, Emily was not in line to become one of his caregivers. Telling him stories, giving him a bath, picking out his clothes, tucking him in, those were things she might get to help with tonight.

But that was it.

Then she had to go home . . . her eyes began to burn . . . by herself.

Hotch had been talking to Jack when he happened to glance over to see Emily was practically in tears. That was _completely_ unexpected, and his eyes widened in concern.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

With a quick shake of her head, Emily hurriedly wiped the corner of her eye.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I guess I'm just a little overtired." Then she quickly stood up, giving him a watery smile, though her voice was still tight.

"I'm going to go wash my face and then I'll start dinner."

When Emily tried to slip by him, Hotch reached out to catch her hand. Then he tugged her over and against his side. He rubbed his hand down her back.

"Come on," he whispered, "tell me what's wrong."

Sniffling against his chest, she shook her head, "it doesn't matter."

After shooting a quick glance down to make sure Jack was occupied . . . playing with his GI Joes . . . Hotch slipped his arm around Emily's waist as he walked her over to the hall, out of Jack's view.

Once there, he leaned back against the wall and pulled Emily close. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist. Then he lowered his head to make sure he caught her eyes.

"It always matters to me when you cry," he whispered, his hand rubbing gently along her side, "YOU matter to me. So please tell me what's wrong. I don't like to see you upset."

It was even worse when he didn't have a clue what the problem was. She was fine and then she wasn't.

Emily very much wished she could wrap both arms around Hotch right now. Settling for resting her cheek against his shoulder she took a breath before she wiped her eyes. She hated to dump something else on him right now, but she knew he wouldn't let it go.

If she didn't tell him now then he was just going to ask her later after Jack went to bed. So there was no reason to throw off their whole night with him worrying.

She reached over to gently grasp his other hand, stroking her thumb along the length of it before she said softly.

"It's going to sound weird, but when Jack got up all of a sudden I just felt really sad." She saw Hotch tip his head quizzically and she knew that wasn't enough. But she didn't know how to explain the reason for the sadness without telling him the real problem. And after a moment she ended up just blurting it out, "I wish I had a family."

Frowning Hotch pulled her against him as he kissed the top of her head. He was a little confused but he still tried to comfort her the best he could. Maybe she was just feeling lonely. He whispered.

"You do have a family. You have your parents and you have us. The team's a family. You have lots of people that love you Emily."

She sniffled, "I know, but, I mean like somebody that's just mine. Like my own immediate family. Like you have Jack," her voice cracked and the tears started falling again, "I don't have that."

And suddenly Hotch saw what the problem was . . . and he felt a terrible stab of fear.

This was the thought that had crept in the other day when they were on the couch. That someday she'd want a regular relationship, and not this 'platonic couple' thing they had. The platonic couple thing was fine for him because he had his son too. But he just remembered that Emily was going to be forty in a couple of weeks. And if she was sad when Jack got up, then he deduced that Jack had started her clock ticking. And if she wanted a baby, then she was going to need to find a father. And when she found a father, then this . . . all of this that they had now . . . it would change. His eyes stung.

It could disappear.

That thought actually made him feel sick, but his feelings weren't what were important. Here she was crying on his shoulder, this was about her happiness. And he couldn't be selfish.

So he rubbed his hand down her back and asked quietly.

"Am I causing a problem for you?"

Emily sniffled, then her brow wrinkled as she looked up in confusion.

"What?"

As unexpected as it was, Hotch could feel his own tears begin to pool.

"I just mean, do you need to spend less time with me? Because I know you haven't really been dating lately and I think that's because we spend so much time together. But . . . if you want to have a family of your own, then obviously you need to start seeing other people again," he swallowed over the lump in his throat, "which means that you need to not see me so much."

When he thought about it, he knew if she started dating regularly again he really wouldn't see her at all outside of work. You spend your weekends with your significant other not your divorced best friend and his kid.

God . . . one of the tears leaked down his face . . . he hadn't thought it was possible, but maybe you _could_ break up with your best friend. And if she found somebody, then even if she was still his closest confidante, he wouldn't necessarily be hers.

Jesus Christ . . . he wiped his hand across his face . . . how the hell did this afternoon take another nasty turn?

Emily looked up at Hotch in horror.

"I don't want to spend _less_ time with you!" She started sobbing, "my God, I could have LOST you two days ago! Do you know how much that would have hurt me?! I would _never_ voluntarily cut you out of my life." Feeling completely heartbroken that he would even propose such an idea, she scrubbed her hand across her face.

"How could you even _think_ something so ridiculous!?"

God, after everything they'd been through how could he think she didn't want to see him anymore? Or Jack? Ripping either one of them out of her life would be unthinkable!

As the tears ran down Emily's face Hotch felt another one of his own tears spill over, "okay," he pulled her to his chest as he bent down, "okay, I'm sorry," his voice cracked, "please don't cry Emily,"

He couldn't believe he was actually about to start crying right now myself. But he couldn't bear to see her this upset. Not knowing that he'd been the cause of it.

Hearing the pain in Hotch's voice as he pleaded with her, Emily took a couple of gasping breaths as she tried to get herself under control. After the afternoon they'd had both of them were more emotional than they would be normally. And she didn't mean to get them this upset after what had happened earlier.

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything to him. This was _not_ something that they needed to deal with right now. And she never would have brought it up today if he hadn't asked. But it really hadn't occurred to her that it would be such a hornet's nest. Which she realized now was rather naïve. Because as she thought about it, she realized that the notion of Hotch suddenly embracing the dating world made her feel sick. They wouldn't get to spend any time together anymore. They wouldn't get to cuddle. You can't cuddle with another woman's man.

She sniffled . . . no wonder he was so upset. Everything would change if either of them started dating again. But she knew he wasn't looking to jump back into the dating world, and she wasn't either. But then she remembered, he didn't know that. So she told him she wanted a family and he was just jumping to logical conclusions about building families.

God . . . she kissed his neck . . . she'd really made a mess of this.

After Emily kissed his neck Hotch leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"What do you want Emily?"

His voice was still a little gravelly, but he basically had his emotions properly locked up in the box again. He slowly rubbed her back, "you tell me what you want because I want you to be happy."

This was not a conversation that he was expecting to have with her today. But they'd certainly spent enough time the last few days dealing with his issues. And he should be showing her more attention anyway. The world doesn't stop just for his problems. It's not The Aaron Show. Maybe that's part of the reason she'd felt so sad when Jack got up . . . he kissed the top of her head . . . maybe she _was_ lonely.

Maybe he had been neglecting her.

He wasn't even sure if that was the problem but now he felt terribly guilty and he tried to pull her in a little closer. He rolled his eyes, so much harder to do with one arm. But he still tried to give her a little of the comfort that she had given him when he was down.

After hearing his question, Emily took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before she turned her head to breath in his scent. His Hotchness. It worked as it always had before. And as she felt a little of her calm return she figured she was finally in a place where she could broach this subject. It was one that she'd been putting off bringing up. But now they'd clearly reached a point where it needed to come to light.

She cleared her throat.

"I guess I sort of um, gave you the wrong impression when I said I wanted a family. I don't want to start dating again right now," she looked up at him, "I DON'T want to spend less time with you," her eyes dropped back down, "I was thinking maybe I could adopt, or I don't know, artificial insemination or something. You know I have really bad luck with relationships. So aside from not really wishing to go back to being treated like crap, I wouldn't trust my own judgment to find a good father for my kid anyway. And I don't want him/her to get stuck with a dud."

Hotch's eyes widened in surprise.

He'd never been so RELIEVED in his entire life! She didn't want to go off and find a husband. She just wanted to _adopt_ a baby! That was great! Fabulous! Babies he could deal with, he just didn't want her to go away. And as he thought about it he realized this might actually make their friendship stronger. If she was a single parent too they'd have something in common. His eyes crinkled slightly as he thought about how that would affect his life, he'd have a baby to play with again.

His eyes fell shut as he kissed the top of her head.

This was good. This was great.

Emily tipped her head back, mentally bracing herself before she asked the next question.

"Do you think I'm crazy, or do you think I could do that? Raise a baby on my own I mean."

Though she really didn't know how Hotch would feel about her idea . . . it was kind of coming out of the blue for them . . . she knew that he'd try to spare her feelings even if he thought that she was making a terrible mistake. But she'd be able to read his real thoughts on his face, no matter what words came out of his mouth. And his opinion meant the world to her, she'd be devastated if thought it was a bad idea. Because he would know if she wasn't up to being a single parent.

He knew her best.

Hotch's brow wrinkled in surprise.

"Of _course_ you could do it on your own," he touched her cheek as he said softly, "you can do anything Emily. But I would help you, whatever you needed, I'd help you."

Feeling relief flood her system, Emily gave him a watery smile.

"Okay, thanks. I was a little worried about your reaction. That's why I hadn't said anything before. But if you think I can do it that makes me feel better." She patted his stomach, "and don't worry I'm not looking to do this like right now. It's just something I've been thinking about off and on and today it kind of hit me unexpectedly," looking up, she gave him a sad smile.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make this afternoon more complicated than it was already."

His lip quirked up in a faint smile.

"Don't be silly. I told you, if it matters to you then it matters to me," he patted her back, "I'm happy you told me. This is a really big thing, even if you are just thinking about it, and I wouldn't want you to feel like you had to hide it from me. I wouldn't judge you." He kissed her forehead, "you know that."

"Right," she sniffled against his shoulder, "I do know that." Then leaned back again, and seeing Hotch's eyes were as red rimmed as hers probably were, she felt guilty for upsetting him again after his crappy afternoon. So she tugged him down and pressed a light kiss to his lips. Then she patted his cheek and gave him a soft smile.

"How about we go wash up, and then I'll make dinner?"

Feeling a slight tingle from Emily's kiss, Hotch's hand automatically went up to touch his mouth. Then his eyes crinkled as he looked down at her.

Twice in one day.

He smiled and rubbed his hand down her back.

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

_A/N 2: Yet another path I wasn't planning on going down. But, I've been working on her birthday chapter (which is not baby fever related) but I was just thinking about turning 40. Not a number anywhere on MY horizon, but just trying to imagine "being" Emily and having this great relationship with this little boy that you adore but you only get to see like 3 hrs a week. That's like worse than any crappy custody agreement out there. So I could see how that regular exposure would start to make you reassess priorities and set some goals. Then you'd have to figure out how you want to get there. And what worked out well with this is that the idea of possibly become a single adoptive mom is sort of a new 'thing' for her but it doesn't conflict with anything in The Hours. Because obviously there, she had her relationship with Hotch, plus she then was with Jack in a 'parental/caregiver' type role so this issue would have basically resolved itself. I'm not planning on making this a huge subplot, it's just there and especially with JJ having Henry in a few weeks, the baby thing will come up again at that point. But probably not too often beyond that. _

_This was also another way to sort of work in a little angst about the depth of their feelings for one another. Their emotional reaction to the idea of 'breaking up' was like a REAL break up. And this was showing them that are other ways to lose people that you don't anticipate until they kind of hit you in the face. And your best friend, even if you aren't in love with him/her, all of a sudden being in a romantic relationship is a huge adjustment, especially for people with an incredibly tactile relationship such as theirs. _

_I did deliberately do the second quick kiss on the lips even though that isn't something they usually do. I did that because again I did feel that last scene worked with a real kiss (hence the spinoff) so I'm putting it that in this Emily's mind that nagging thought was still there so she did it again. I'm not really planning on making that a regular thing for them this early because if you do that often, then lines blur more quickly. You can get away with a quick friendly kiss on the lips occasionally, but NOT as often as they kiss :)_

_I'm having a terrible time coming up with chapter names right now. I'm working on three other things and I can't even fricking save them because I don't know what the hell to call them. So as of right now the next one is called this, but I could change it because it's kind of boring._

_And FYI, I might be posting on Horses tomorrow. I have a chapter just about pulled together.  
_

_Next: "__**Bath Time & Bed Time**__"_


	97. Divebombing Duckies

**Author's Note**: I finished this a few days ago but if you have any vague recollection of the previous chapter title, I planned to cover bedtime too. But to be quite honest, my Jack muse went away. That's the part of my brain that writes cute little family stuff. It's taking a coffee break. SO, rather than just leaving this sitting here waiting for break time to be over, I figured I'd just put up the bath portion and be done with it.

Unrelated, if you're interested, I finally updated Horses.

**Prompt Announcement**: I already did this in Horses but I think I have a larger audience here :)

I put up the new bonus yesterday, it's all about JJ. And today Kavi put up the new regular prompts. I can't believe we're on set #7! It's the little challenge that could :) So please check them out, see if there's anything you like that sparks a story idea. And if you know anyone who just writes JJ, let them know there's a JJ challenge!

* * *

_Early October: Saturday_

**Divebombing Duckies**

After dinner Hotch took Jack down to his room to pick out his pajamas and Emily went in to turn on the bathtub. Hotch told her the water should be a little bit cooler than what she'd like for herself. So she decided on half hot, half cold.

Once she had the faucet running, Emily went over to the shelving unit they got at IKEA and pulled down one of the two mesh baskets sitting on the very top shelf. She stood there for a second, her eyes crinkling as she looked at all the bath toys.

They were just adorable.

She stooped down and placed the basket on the tile floor, then she reached up to pull down a second rectangular storage container. This one had bubble bath, lotions and baby shampoo inside.

Though Jack was old enough to know better than to drink things he found in the bathroom, Hotch said that he still had to put them up on the high shelf because there had been an incident once where Jack tried to make bubbles in the sink.

It took an hour to clean up.

The shampoo was the No Tears kind that you usually associated with little kids so she pulled that out and put it on the edge of the tub. Same thing with the liquid soap. Snapping the cover back she took a sniff and smiled.

It smelled like Jack.

Securing the cover again she put that back next to the shampoo and then looked at the bubble bath. Hmm. There were three different kinds. She decided to go old school there too and bypassed Sesame Street and SpongeBob for plain old Mr. Bubble. She dumped in a capful like she would for herself and then she rolled her eyes as she dumped in two more.

He was three, more bubbles meant more fun.

Okay . . . she feeling good here. This was her first ever bath prep for a small child but things were going well. Then she rolled her eyes again, she wasn't exactly sure how she thought they could go badly but still . . . she was pleased not to have screwed up yet.

Leaning back up she put the basket of soaps and bubble baths on the shelf again before looking down at the bath toys. Hotch said he liked his boat so she took that out. Then she smiled as she saw the rubber ducky . . . that was definitely going in. She grabbed that too, and then twisted her jaw for a moment before finally grabbing the submarine.

Figuring that was enough, she dropped all three of them into the water. Then she turned towards the door as she heard Hotch and Jack coming down the hall.

Her face lit up when they stepped into the bathroom, Hotch was walking behind Jack with his hand on his shoulder.

And Jack . . . the most adorable little boy on the planet . . . was wearing a blue terry cloth robe and little Bert and Ernie slippers. Gah!

He was so flipping CUTE!

Hotch saw the look of delight on Emily's face and his eyes crinkled . . . she was so cute.

He knew how much she'd been looking forward to bath time. She'd asked him a half dozen questions while they made dinner. Okay, she made dinner, he sat and watched. But the point was, that she'd been quizzing him because she was so afraid of doing his bath 'wrong' somehow. He tried to explain that you couldn't really do bath time "wrong."

As long as Jack had his boat he was happy. And as Hotch peered over her shoulder he could see that she did indeed have the boat so they were good.

Though . . . his nose wrinkled slightly as he noticed something that could be a problem.

"Um, Emily?"

She looked over expectantly, "yeah?"

Hotch pointed, "the uh water's getting a little high."

She was filling it like you would for a big person. Little people needed less water. Plus they tended to make a mess.

A big mess.

Emily turned her head, looking down quizzically at the tub and then back to Jack before her eyes widened.

"OH . . ." she remembered little ears, "SUGAR!" She hurriedly turned off the faucets and then looked down in dismay. The water was an inch below the rim. That was much too high for him.

Apparently you could screw up bath time.

As she stared at the sudsy water she actually felt her eyes begin to sting. God . . . she started blinking . . . she must have PMS or something, this was like the third time today she was getting upset. And _this_ one was a bit ridiculous to get THAT upset about.

Though . . . she sighed . . . she did screw up.

She looked back up at Hotch apologetically, "sorry."

His face softened . . . God, she was genuinely upset. But of course, why wouldn't she be? She'd been so excited about giving Jack his bath and then he forgot to remind her about the water. And she didn't know any better.

It was his fault.

He gave her a soft smile, "it's okay. I should have said something. Why don't you just let a little bit out while Jack brushes his teeth?"

Her eyes crinkled as she nodded, "and see that's why I needed a bath time coach."

Hotch's lip quirked up before he turned his attention to Jack who had been staring with rapt attention at his boat and ducky floating in deep water. Usually he just had a little bit to splash around in, and Hotch could tell he was amazed.

Using his foot, Hotch slid Jack's little stool out from under the sink.

"Come on buddy, let's brush your teeth."

Jack blinked and then turned to look up at Hotch, "'k daddy," then he turned back to Emily with a grin, "that's whole bunches of water Miss Emily."

Emily chuckled as she pulled him over to kiss his cheek, "it is honey but it's a little bit too much. Your ducky might sink so I'm going to let a little bit out while you brush your teeth."

She was actually more concerned about Jack sinking than his ducky. And after she let him go she turned to pull the plug to let a little of the water out.

As she watched the little whirlpool forming by the drain she huffed . . . Al Gore would not be pleased with her water conservation.

With a slight look of dismay, Jack watched the water begin to go down and then he sighed as he turned to step up on his stool, taking his toothbrush from Hotch's hand.

Hotch's lips twitched as he squirted a bit of toothpaste on the brush. He imagined Jack had images of giant whirlpools in his head.

Turning to watch his son brush his teeth in the mirror Hotch's eyes crinkled . . . oh well, he'd get over it.

After his teeth were brushed Jack said he had to "go potty" so Emily politely turned her head while Hotch helped him. Jack could basically handle it himself, Hotch just put the seat up for him and Emily smothered her giggle as she heard Hotch whisper about "aiming down."

She looked back over when she heard the toilet flush.

Jack was back up on his stool washing his hands and Hotch was putting down the seat. Her eyes caught with his and he shook his head good naturedly, "you're lucky you don't share a bathroom with him." She chuckled before turning to check the tub.

The water had gone down about two inches so she put the plug back in again. She gave Hotch a quick glance and he gave her an approving nod so she knew that was proper height. She made a mental note on the depth before she felt the temperature . . . definitely cool enough . . . so she put her hand out to Jack.

"Come on honey, let's get in the tub."

Hotch gingerly lowered himself down to sit on the closed toilet lid as Emily helped Jack take off his robe. Then she lifted him up under his arms and put him in the bathtub. Jack immediately started divebombing his ducky and Emily got splashed in the face.

Water was dripping off her face as she turned back to Hotch.

"You didn't tell me this was hazardous duty!" She laughed.

Hotch grabbed the towel off the sink, handing it to her as he flashed a dimple, "you wouldn't have agreed to help if I had."

Looking back over to Jack playing in the bubbles she smiled softly, "yeah I would have."

After she wiped her face she looked back to Hotch, "okay, what do I do?"

The principle seemed simple enough. It was the execution she was concerned about.

Hotch's eyes crinkled . . . he was quite sure that she could have figured out the process without instruction. But he knew she was a little nervous so he didn't tease her.

Instead he pointed to the shampoo and soap she had put out on the tub.

"Just wash his hair, it won't sting so don't panic if the soap gets in his eyes. And then just wipe him down quick," Hotch gave Jack an affectionate smile, "he likes to play so he gets a little squirmy. It's best to just get the actual bathing part over right away and then let him splash around."

Emily nodded as she looked over at Jack a little nervously, "got it."

Squirmy.

See . . . she scolded herself . . . now that's one of the reasons why you don't want the tub filled to the top Emily.

As she looked down at the wet spot already on her shirt, Emily realized she was going to have to change when they were done. But at least she had remembered to pull her hair back.

Getting up on her knees she leaned forward and picked up the baby shampoo, squirting a dollop on Jack's head. Her eyes crinkling as she remembered washing his father's hair a couple days earlier.

It was quite a similar experience.

Neither of them had much on top so it only took a few seconds, though she did get doused with another shot of sudsy water.

Jack clearly enjoyed playing dive bomber.

Turning her head slightly, she shot over her shoulder, "I'm glad _you_ didn't have a rubber ducky."

Hotch's lips twitched . . . he'd almost forgotten that this was her second round of playing scrub nurse this week.

After Jack's head was lathered Hotch could see her staring at it for a second so he pointed, "in the corner, use the cup."

Her eyes lip up, "ah."

She hadn't noticed that before. And this was the bathroom she used when she stayed over. But she was usually just in and out with a shower. She'd never taken a bath in here before so she hadn't looked around much.

After she filled the cup, Emily tipped Jack's head back slightly and poured the water over his hair. He immediately started to giggle and her mouth twitched as her heart filled.

_Oh yeah, she definitely wanted one of these for herself._

One more cup of water got his hair suds free and then Emily lathered up the washcloth Hotch handed her.

After she helped Jack to his feet, Emily held onto him with one hand, and then did as Hotch instructed and went for quick scrub down.

Though Jack was indeed a bit 'squirmy' the whole process was not that not dissimilar to washing Hotch a few days earlier. Her eyes crinkled slightly . . . the big difference being she did hit a few spots on Jack that she hadn't hit on Hotch.

Once scrub down was complete, she helped Jack sit down again. He probably could have done it himself but she was so afraid that he was going to slip and hit his head.

After one more dive bomb, Jack moved his attention from his ducky to his boat, and Emily turned back to Hotch with a little smile.

"Did I do it right? Did I forget anything?"

His eyes crinkled, "you did just fine."

Though she was a bit more drippy than Hotch usually was at this point. But that was to be expected.

Rookies don't always know when to get out of the way of a dive bombing ducky.

He held his hand out to her and she smiled as she pushed herself up and went over to sit down on his knee.

The bathroom was small and the toilet was just next to the other end of the tub so she was still the same distance away from Jack.

Hotch wrapped his arm around her waist and she put hers around his neck as they watched Jack playing for a few minutes. Then she tipped her head over to his as she whispered, "I'm really glad you let me come home with you."

He patted her stomach as he whispered back, "me too."

* * *

_A/N 2: Emily was way more emotional today than she usually is so I decided to let her think she had a touch of PMS. And I didn't want her to be perfect at everything. I mean, she doesn't have nieces or nephews or younger siblings so she really doesn't have any experience at all doing something like this. The things you sort of take for granted as being so obvious, you did have to learn once, even if it was just watching somebody else do it. Care giving instincts only take you so far without some practical experience._

_I made a couple of Hours allusions in here, Jack's boat being his favorite bath toy. And his rubber ducky of course has its own chapter title over there :) And just like Emily's pajamas, I do like to write Jack's robe and slippers :) Over in the Hours he has his Scooby Doo robe with the puppy slippers. But he doesn't get that until Christmas._

_I'm thinking at this point I'll just skip a 'live' overview of bedtime and just maybe hit it in a recap. The next chapter I WANT to write is them shopping Sunday night. But I haven't even started that and I don't have any push to do it at the moment. As much as I love Girl, I'd like to work on a few other stories for a little bit. Stuff inspired by the prompts. My brain is itching to write something for a few of the other characters. And as you know, I don't write them nearly enough so I figured I'd just go with it while the urge struck. _

_So I should, if things go well, have another story up in my new Reid'verse (My Friend the Doctor) and I'm doing the bonus challenge of JJ's first day, and, lastly, I want to write the three girls speed dating. That should be fun. Not counting working on Horses AND, the second bit to Drowning Man. The part from Em's POV. But amazingly that's basically done and could even go up tonight. But, all that means Girl is on hiatus for a couple days. But I wanted to at least get this chapter up so you'd know why I wasn't posting here. _

_Oh, and I didn't forget my promise, it is the first day of Spring (well, in some parts of the world) so I will be putting up the other big story tonight! The alternate version of the bar where they have sex in the bathroom. That's now Universe D because C got taken by Epiphanies. I'd like to add here that tfm has suggested I go all the way through the alphabet coming up with as many ideas as I possibly can. And I should do this with the hope of eventually getting to __**Universe U**__, where, and I quote now, "Hotch is secretly an alien who is desperately in want of a new human lover." _

_If only I could write sci fi because that would be a KICKASS story!_


	98. To Market, To Market

**Author's Note**: I think this is the longest Girl hiatus since this began way back in February. I'm kind of curious at this rate if we'll be wrapping this story before we get to NEXT February. There is still quite a ways to go.

After playing in the dark for a week I had a little (okay, a lot of) difficulty getting back into the swing of writing the relationship stuff. Two very different parts of my brain and this part was quite rusty. So please be kind :)

The title is again from a nursery rhyme. Though that one is Mother Goose, so nothing sick and twisted about dead people. Just dancing with hogs. Children's nursery rhymes are pretty bizarre things.

* * *

_Early October: Sunday_

**To Market, To Market**

Emily watched with some amusement as Hotch subtly bumped her aside so that he could push the carriage.

Her lip quirked up, "you have to drive here too?"

He scowled at her, "I think you've already demonstrated your shopping cart expertise is somewhat lacking. You were going to pick the one with the squeaky wheel that pulled to the left. God knows we could have gone careening into a display of canned vegetables."

She rolled her eyes, "yeah, because I'm known for randomly losing control of shopping carts and ramming them into pyramids of food. You know I've actually been banned from Giant and Whole Foods because of my reckless cart driving."

Hotch raised his eyebrow at her, "I know, it's in your file. That's why _I'm _pushing the cart."

And then . . . before she could get in another word . . . he started rolling the empty carriage down the bakery aisle.

Ordinarily he really wouldn't give a crap who 'drove' the cart, but this was one activity that he was still completely capable of performing without any assistance at all. All he had to do was just lean slightly and the cart moved. After half a week of Emily doing everything but brush his teeth for him he was relieved to have some sense of independence again.

Not that he wasn't incredibly grateful for all that she'd done, he'd just like to still feel like a man by the time he went back to work tomorrow.

Shaking her head in amusement Emily watched him go on ahead without her . . . she knew that he just wanted to do something by himself. But of course he couldn't just _say _that.

There had to be subterfuge.

Her lip quirked up . . . though this was his most pathetic attempt ever to shift blame onto her.

She sighed . . . it had been a hard weekend for him though. First the issue in the park on Saturday, and then she was pretty sure he got into a little thing with Haley when she came to pick up Jack earlier this afternoon.

Just before Haley was supposed to show up Emily had slipped out, borrowing Hotch's jeep to run home and get her grocery list. She had needed to do that anyway but she also thought it might be a little awkward if she was there when his ex-wife arrived.

And that probably had been for the best because when she got back Hotch was in a little bit of a mood. She started to ask him if he wanted to talk about it but he just scowled and shook his head so she left it alone.

Whatever had happened, he seemed to have shaken it off by the time they left for the store. Either way though, she'd cut him some slack and let him win one ridiculous discussion without further protest.

Leaning down, Emily grabbed a small red basket from the bin before hurrying to catch up with him.

He was perusing the loaves of French bread.

Emily dropped the basket into the front of the cart, figuring she'd use it if she needed to bring anything back.

The Safeway was a pretty big place, and though he had something to lean on, she still didn't want him having to traverse the store three times over.

Hotch stared at Emily for a moment, waiting for the next dig. No matter how small the issue, it was unlike her to just let him just get in a shot and walk away. Emily was incredibly competitive, they both were, and the verbal sparring was part of that. So when she ignored him to simply grab a loaf of Italian bread off the shelf he slowly raised his eyebrow.

"You're not going to give me any more crap about the shopping cart?"

Her lip quirked up . . . so suspicious.

Smiling, she patted his back, "not today, I'm a little tired. We'll just call this one a draw."

He looked at her for a second longer before his eyes crinkled and he nodded, "okay."

It was obvious the break from teasing was solely for his dignity. But it was almost impossible to win with Emily on his best day so he appreciated the free pass he was getting. Usually arguing with her was fun, but admittedly he wasn't exactly playing his A game at the moment. He was still a little distracted from what had happened earlier. Not that what had happened was a huge deal, but it was enough to get under his skin.

As they started walking along, picking up staples in the dairy section, Hotch compared his experiences over the past few hours with the two women in his life.

Haley and Emily.

No free passes today from Haley. Though, Haley had started off okay. When she got to his place she very nicely asked how he'd fared by himself. But before he could even open his mouth and explain what had happened, Jack had walked around the corner with Mr. Bobo chattering about Miss Emily.

Basically Jack completely covered the highpoints of the weekend in about forty-five seconds and Haley was shooting daggers at Hotch by the end. And then she made a not so veiled dig as she was leaving about how nice it was he had a 'friend' to help out.

At the time that had pissed him off because he wasn't sure exactly why she was so upset. Yes, he would have _preferred _to be able to tell him herself that a 'friend' had come over to help him out, but either way, he'd felt it really wasn't any of her business. Jack was his son and he was certainly more than capable of determining who was, and was not, appropriate company for him.

Plus, Emily wasn't a stranger, Haley had already met her. And bottom-line, when Hotch sent his son home to his mother he was in the same condition as when she handed him off.

Happy, clean and well fed.

But as Hotch thought about it now, with a little bit of distance from the automatic defensiveness that seems to swirl up immediately when you have a discussion with your ex, perhaps he might have given Haley's feelings a bit more consideration.

Granted, he and Emily weren't dating . . . but Haley didn't know that.

And why wouldn't she assume they were dating? Jack as much as told her that Emily moved in for the weekend.

That was the logical conclusion.

And if they HAD been dating, that would have been the first time one of them had to deal with the idea of the other one with a new person. And in the scenario as it had taken place today, that _would_ have been a pretty crappy way for her to find out about it. He knew if their positions had been reversed, he probably would have been a bit put out too if he'd shown up at Haley's and found out Jack had spent the week with some other guy in the house.

Hotch rolled his eyes . . . who was he kidding? He would have been bullshit.

Crap.

He was probably going to have to have a conversation with Haley about Emily. Even if they were just friends there was no reason to let this become a thing. He and Haley had been getting along pretty well lately and he didn't want to screw that up.

Besides, Emily . . . by virtue of her relationship with Hotch . . . was now a permanent figure in part of Jack's life. And Haley, as the boy's mother, did deserve to know that.

Hotch would expect the same consideration. He sighed . . . why did divorce have to be a continual pain in the ass?

Emily was just putting the milk into the cart when she heard Hotch sigh and she looked over worriedly.

"You doing okay?"

This was the first outing since the park. Though he was considerably better today than he had been when they got home yesterday, she'd still been a little worried about him going out. She'd offered to just pick up his groceries for him but he assured her he was definitely up for a quick trip to the grocery store. And she knew he'd been getting a bit of cabin fever so she hadn't argued the point.

The little bit of work they'd brought home with them was long since finished and Hotch was not accustomed to just sitting around not doing anything.

Giving her a little smile her nodded, "yeah I'm fine. I was just thinking about something I need to do this week."

He certainly wasn't about to tell her that she'd become a source of contention between him and his ex-wife. She'd feel terrible. So making an effort to perk up, he looked over the half dozen or so items in their cart and then tipped his head, "so what else do you need to get?"

She looked down at her list, "um, frozen dinners, soda, juice, couple snacks and," she looked up at him with a smirk, "some lady stuff."

Hotch's lips twitched, "well, why don't you go get your frozen dinners and your, 'lady stuff,' and meet me in the soda aisle," he put his hand out, "let me see your list. I need to get juice and snack stuff too so I'll get it at the same time."

Wrinkling her brow Emily held her slip of paper away from him, "you sure you're up for lifting?"

So far she'd been the one putting everything in the cart.

He rolled his eyes, "Emily I'm lifting a bag of potato chips, not a 50 lbs barbell."

With a mock scowl she hesitantly handed over her list before shaking her finger at him.

"_Don't_ overdo it."

His lips twitched, "yes ma'am."

To his amusement she continued to eye him suspiciously as she walked backwards towards the health and beauty aisle. When she disappeared he snorted to himself and went off to get the juice.

He knew she was just worried he'd set himself back again but seriously, he could handle snacks and juice. Or . . . he frowned as he looked down at her list . . . at least he thought he could.

Utterly perplexed, Hotch stood there muttering to himself, "God, she has atrocious handwriting."

His brow wrinkled.

What was that word? Snerfer . . . Snakers . . . he rolled his eyes . . . OH!

SNAPPLE!

How can you not write Snapple legibly?

Shaking his head in amazement, Hotch started filling the cart with about a dozen of her favorite flavors.

The up and down motion of loading the carriage did make him once again consciously 'aware' of his injury, but they weren't heavy, and he'd finally been able to take his half a Percocet after Jack left, so it didn't really tug at it. Figuring he'd need to start his exercises in the next day or so anyway this was probably a good non impact, quote unquote 'workout' to get started.

He huffed . . . putting a bottle of Snapple into a grocery cart was now a 'workout.'

But it really was kind of a balancing act right now. If he didn't do anything at all then the muscles would completely tighten up and it would be that much more painful working on range of motion later.

So, though he thought this little activity was probably good for him, he was very glad when said activity was done.

He made a quick stop to grab Jack's juice boxes before heading over to the dry goods aisle to get his main meal ingredients.

Spaghetti, tomato sauce, canned soup, and dinosaur shaped macaroni & cheese.

Hotch and Emily both probably ate the same amount of processed foods, it's just that she preferred the frozen kind and he liked to pretend he was cooking. He actually really liked to cook, and he was pretty good at it if he did say so himself, he was just never home early enough to make the effort.

Not to mention that it was kind of pathetic cooking anything elaborate just for yourself, so his culinary skills were pretty much on the shelf unless Jack was there. And at present hot dogs and macaroni and cheese were about as exotic a food stuff as his son would eat.

As Hotch looked down, he chewed his lip, trying to remember if he needed anything else.

Eh . . . he was probably good. His cupboards weren't completely bare, just a little on the light side.

Three quarters of his list had been covered so he went off to the snack aisle.

On his way he passed the freezer section and saw Emily still picking through, what he was assuming from her location, the Lean Cuisines. He could see even from a distance she'd filled more than half of her basket with them.

Knowing she'd be at least a few more minutes, Hotch decided not to stop and went over to get the chips and popcorn alone. Then he doubled back for ice cream, bumping into her just as she was coming around the corner looking for him.

With a smile she hefted her basket up and over into the cart, "hey," her eyes shifted down, "oh you're done." She looked back up at him, "I got held up trying to find the Butternut Squash Ravioli," she quirked her lip up, "they were hiding in the back."

Hotch wrinkled his brow as they started moving towards the front, "they make a good frozen butternut squash ravioli?"

She nodded, "yeah, I was a little surprised myself but it's quite tasty. I mean, yeah, if you go to a nice restaurant you'll get a better version, but still, more than sufficient for three dollars worth of frozen food. And it's good for variety."

Hotch tipped his head as he eyed the rest of her pickings. Variety was definitely the name of the game today. He raised his eyebrow.

"Why did you get so many?"

She had at least twenty. Yeah, they'd certainly keep but that's a lot of crap to try and shove in the freezer at once.

Snorting slightly, Emily took her list back from him, "uh, yeah, I know it's kind of a lot but they're on sale so I figured I'd stock up."

Emily looked back and forth between the list and all of the things he'd picked up while they'd been apart.

Her brow furrowed . . . he'd picked up twice as many of the items on her list than she needed. And she knew he didn't drink Snapple or eat cookie dough ice cream or barbecue . . . aw . . . she bit her lip as her expression softened . . . he was getting it for when she came to visit.

Then she frowned as she wracked her brain trying to remember if she had snacks in the house for him.

Yeah . . . she nodded to herself . . . he didn't eat much junk food so as long as she had plain potato chips he was covered. And she specifically had started keeping an 'emergency' bag above the fridge, just in case he was over.

They continued down to the front of the store. Fortunately on a Sunday night the place was pretty deserted so they found an open register right away.

Hotch unloaded everything in the upper part of the cart . . . which was basically the bread and soda . . . but to his chagrin he had to let Emily do the rest.

It was one thing to basically knock boxes of spaghetti and mac and cheese off the shelf and into the carriage. It was another thing entirely to reach in over and over and lift things out.

God knows he felt like a complete schmuck watching her unload the cart though. And given that he didn't even have a sling or anything to indicate he was injured, he was getting dirty looks from both the cashier and the woman behind them.

It's not like he felt the need to clarify his physical condition for strangers but still, he didn't much like looking like a douchbag.

But apparently Emily picked up on the daggers being hurled at him because after she'd pushed the empty carriage down to the bagger she came over and rubbed her hand down his arm as she asked a bit more loudly than necessary.

"How are your ribs?"

His eyes crinkled as he looked down at her before saying quietly, "they're good," and then he gave her a pointed nod as he mouthed, "thank you."

She just winked at him as she rubbed his back before turning to watch the cashier ring up her purchases.

When the girl started to get to near the end of her order Emily pulled out her wallet but Hotch stilled her hand as he projected his voice over to the cashier.

"If you could just ring up both of these orders together please," then he looked to the boy at the end, "but bagged separately, thanks."

The girl nodded as she tossed the little divider up behind the conveyer belt and kept ringing things up.

Emily stood there astonished and then looked up at Hotch as she sputtered.

"What . . . why . . . you don't have to pay for my stuff!"

He patted her back as he moved her down so he could run his card through the machine.

"I know. But you've essentially disrupted your whole life for half the week so I thought buying you a couple of bags of groceries was really the least I could do."

Though this of course wasn't the only thing he was planning on doing, it was a start.

Shaking her head in exasperation Emily stared at him, "Hotch, you don't have to thank me for doing that. It's nothing you wouldn't do for me. We take care of each other."

He flashed her a dimple, "I know, but if our positions were reversed you know you'd be trying to find some way to pay me back too."

She snorted, "as if you ever allow me to pay you back for anything."

Lips twitching he accepted the receipt back from the girl before he turned to Emily, "I didn't say you'd be _successful_ in paying me back, just that you'd try."

With a huff, Emily leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, "thank you," then she rolled her eyes, "you big jerk."

Hotch snorted as he tucked the receipt into his wallet and Emily thanked the bag boy. Then she turned back to Hotch, "you all set?"

Nodding he put his hand on her shoulder, "yep," and then his eyes widened slightly as he looked down at her.

"Though can we stop at Target on the way home? I need to pick up one thing there."

He'd almost forgotten he needed to get the frames for the pictures. Emily still hadn't seen them so they'd be a surprise.

Emily's eyes twinkled, "of course we can stop and maybe we can get a Dairy Queen after."

His lips twitched, "maybe we can."

She smiled back and him . . . and with Hotch's hand still on her shoulder . . . Emily started pushing the cart towards the door.

Their bag boy, Ricky, was just about to start loading up the next customer's groceries when he realized the plastic bag in front of him was already half full. His brow wrinkled as he peered into it.

Crap.

He looked around frantically . . . there . . . that couple just going out the door.

Ricky started running, holding out the bag in front of him as he ran across the front of the store yelling.

"SIR, SIR, YOU FORGOT YOUR TAMPONS!"

Grinding his jaw, Hotch accepted the bag with a polite thanks before dropping them unceremoniously into the cart.

Emily snorted.

"I guess I'll buy the ice cream."

* * *

_A/N 2: I did do a first grocery shopping trip for them in The Hours when Hotch moves in, but that was more house stuff and combining personal preferences. This was just a basic run. I was also alluding here to something else from The Hours, that Hotch is a good cook, and actually by the time they move in together he's usually making dinner for them as opposed to their current habit of ordering in all the time._

_This was what I call a 'workhorse chapter', it's needed to move forward a particular plot point but otherwise not a lot of major stuff happens. And the plot point here was the thing with Haley. That's a minor thread but one I will be pulling forward at a couple more points over the next few months before The Hours begins. I'm not going to violate my rule and make Hayley a bitch, just the adjustment for her in seeing, before Hotch does, that he's moving on._

_I technically have most of the next chapter done. I was planning on picking up next Saturday but I'd kind of like to insert something in for the middle of the week that's team related to Hotch's injury. I don't have a specific scene in mind, I just wanted to do it for balance so I'm going to look over the prompts and see if I get an idea. If I don't, then the next one should be up in a day or so, it just needs polishing._

_Postings here are going to continue to be a little erratic until I wrap Snake Pit. Though I'm making an effort to keep my hand in here now so I don't get as rusty again._

_And if I owe anyone a review thank you, they're coming tonight! _


	99. The Case of the Punch in the Nose

**Author's Note**: I did get an idea for a bit of a team piece off one of the prompts. Actually I'm using one of the prompts from the new prompt set, and the title from an old one. So this will be my second story revolving around someone on the team getting punched in the nose. If you read my first one, I can assure you, this one is much lighter than the last one :)

* * *

**Prompt Set #7**

Show: Judging Amy

Title Challenge: Just Say Oops

* * *

_Early October: Wednesday_

**The Case of the Punch in the Nose**

Derek sighed as he handed Reid the ice pack he'd just brought back from the cafeteria.

"What were you thinking man?"

Switching out the tissue for the ice, Reid responded in a nasally voice, "I was just trying to help."

Shaking his head Morgan headed back over to his desk, "kid, you don't EVER help another guy like that." He looked over incredulously, "how do you not know that?"

Reid leaned back in his chair, "I realize now that it was a bad idea Morgan, and if I'd thought about it I wouldn't have done it. I just wasn't thinking," he pulled the ice pack down from his nose as he looked over nervously, "do you think he's really mad."

Hotch had only once ever been _really_ angry with him. A magic trick had gone awry and Reid had started a small fire in the conference room. Before he could put it out, the sprinklers had gone off in the middle of the morning briefing.

That was bad.

This . . . Reid chewed his lip anxiously . . . this might be worse. Hotch didn't actually hit him after the fire.

Snorting, Morgan started logging back into his computer, "uh, I think it's safe to say he's 'upset,' but I guess we'll have to ask Emily if he's really pissed," Derek tipped his head up to the office, looking at the closed blinds and the closed door.

"She's in with him now."

//////

With a slight pout Emily stood in front of Hotch's desk with her head tipped down. She was trying to get him to look at her.

"He's really sorry."

Refusing to look up, Hotch continued to review the expense reports on his desk.

"I'm not talking about this Emily." His tone was clipped.

She sighed . . . God he was stubborn. She'd been in here for ten minutes and she hadn't gotten anything out of him besides _'I'm not talking about this Emily.' _

Usually she could wear him down much faster. The fact that she couldn't meant that he was really upset.

She softened her tone.

"You _have_ to talk about this. It's not good for you to keep things bottled up. It increases your stress. Besides, we both know Reid's down there having a nervous breakdown right now. So when I leave here I have to be able to tell him that it's okay. That you're not going to have him transferred to the Baghdad field office."

Snapping his eyes up to hers, Hotch ground his jaw as he asked irritably, "what part of, _'I'm not talking about this Emily,' _is not getting through to you? Because I've said it like six times now."

He was about thirty seconds away from ordering her out of his office. Of course he'd already done that four times.

It still hadn't taken.

Emily's eyes narrowed as she stared at the set of his jaw. It hadn't unlocked since she'd walked in the door.

Damn.

That's when she realized she was going to have to do something she'd never done in the office before. Something that really _wasn't_ appropriate to do in the office at all. But she figured given that this was really more of a 'family matter,' than a 'work matter,' that it was allowable this one time.

Because this really did need to get smoothed out today before it became a thing.

Aside from her ongoing concerns about Hotch's blood pressure, Spencer already was so skittish, he'd have a fit if he thought he was really in the doghouse with Hotch.

She bit her lip . . . the poor thing. He was only trying to help.

It was just a really, really, terrible way to show his support.

Emily went over and shut Hotch's outside curtains and blinds. She'd already pulled the window blinds and locked the door earlier so there was now no danger at all of anyone seeing them or walking in here.

Not that _anybody_ would be knocking on Hotch's door right now for _any_ reason.

For the few people that _hadn't_ witnessed the disaster, word had spread quickly as to what had happened. And most of the BAU was terrified of Hotch when he was in a mood. And given that he'd actually struck Reid in the nose (though Emily knew that was an accident), it was obvious what kind of mood Hotch was in.

Emily and Dave were the only ones that would dare to talk to him when he was like this. Of course he'd tried to kick them out, but they were both immune to his grumblings.

Though Emily did kick Dave out after five minutes because he just kept laughing. That really wasn't helpful. And in fact had probably set her job back because Hotch was subtly dropping a snapped pencil into the trash when she turned back to him after she'd locked the door.

But now, she had figured out a way to fix it. It was low down, and dirty, and it was a measure of absolute last resort, but . . . it needed to be done.

Operation low down and dirty began with her circling around his desk and sitting down on the edge.

Right on top of the papers he was trying to work on.

She saw his jaw start to twitch and she knew it was working.

Grinding his teeth, Hotch stared at the corner of the spreadsheet he'd been reading before Emily came over and sat on it.

He dropped his pencil on the desk and rolled his chair back, raising his eyebrow dangerously as he looked up at her.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She slid back and over to the middle of his desk, her legs dangling down between his as she smiled at him, "getting your attention."

His jaw twitched again, "we're on duty Prentiss."

Her nose wrinkled as she looked down at her watch, "eh, actually we've been off duty for about four minutes now."

She certainly wasn't trying to seduce him, so anything else she did was technically fair game if they were off the clock. Well, provided the door was locked and the shades were drawn.

Appearances did matter.

Hotch stared at her, very worried about where she was going with this. On duty Emily and off duty Emily were very different creatures. And if off duty Emily had just made an appearance, he was probably in big trouble. He knew how protective she was of Spencer, and he knew she just wanted him to say it was fine, that he wasn't upset about what had happened.

But God damn it he didn't feel like saying it was fine! He was still quite upset about the whole thing! And the fact that it had happened in front of the entire unit really wasn't helping that at all.

Emily's eyes narrowed as she stared at him. She could see that small glint of fear in his eyes. Scenarios running through his head of what she could possibly do right now.

Her lip quirked up . . . this will get him.

She hopped off the desk, dropped into his lap and wrapped her arm around his neck.

His eyes bugged out as he started to sputter.

"EMILY, we're in the office! Get off of me!" he scowled, "that's an order!"

"No," she shook her head, "we're off duty so personal rules apply. And that means you can't boss me. Though admittedly, given our locale, I am on a slippery slope of propriety right now. However," she tipped her head, "I'm okay with that. And given that you can't use that left arm at the moment, you can't even lift me off of you. So bottom line Aaron," her face and tone softened, "the sooner you talk to me, the sooner this is over."

He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes closed as his head dropped down.

Crap.

She was right, it had been agreed a few months ago . . . when they were becoming friends and transitioning from professional to personal . . . that if they were technically off the clock, and nobody else was around, then personal rules applied. Which meant he couldn't "order" her to do anything. And he couldn't lift her off of him so he was stuck with her until she got up on her own.

He groaned . . . she never fought fair!

After taking a few slow deep breaths, with his chin still against his chest, he mumbled to her, "fine."

Emily leaned her head against his as she attempted to get clarification, "fine what?"

With a sigh he lifted his head, "_fine_ you can tell him that if he swears to never do it again," he rolled his eyes, "then I'm not angry."

She whispered, "and . . ."

Grinding his teeth he huffed, "_and_ I'm sorry I accidentally punched him in the nose," he scowled at her, "that was involuntary though. See what you would have done if he'd done that to you!"

Giving him a soft smile she patted his cheek, "I probably would have punched him in the nose too. But I still would have said I was sorry because you know he was only trying to help. He meant well. He just got a little too . . . enthusiastic."

Forgetting for a minute that they were in the office, and that he was trying to get her _off_ of his lap, Hotch lifted his good arm, which had been dangling down next to his chair, and slipped it around her waist.

His eyes closed as he leaned his head against hers.

"Emily," he murmured, "do know how bad that was? Not just that it happened, which was horrible, but in front of the ENTIRE unit. That is really an event I wish I could scrub from my memory."

Pouting in sympathy, Emily kissed his temple, "I know Aaron," she ran her fingers through his hair, "I know, that really sucked."

For almost a minute they just sat there, her curled up in his lap with her head on his shoulder, his cheek resting against her hair. And he slowly started feeling the tension from this afternoon fading away.

And then he heard a noise out in the bullpen and Hotch's eyes popped open. Suddenly remembering . . . off duty or not, they were still in his office. And even if they had complete privacy, it still wasn't at all appropriate to be doing this here.

So he patted her stomach he said sadly.

"We really _can't_ do this in the office Emily."

Her eyes crinkled slightly as she looked at him, "I know, and I promise not to do it again. But I kind of ran out of options. And Aaron," she shook her head, "if you'd let that one fester it wouldn't have been good for you. Not to mention, it would have caused a strain with Spencer. Now you can move past it."

His eyes crinkled slightly, "yeah, I guess you might have had a point there, so thank you," then he raised his eyebrow, "but it's agreed, no more lap sitting in the office, right?"

She smiled, "yes, it's agreed. So how about I go down and talk to Reid, I'll have him poke his head in really quick so he can say sorry and then we'll go to your place," her eyes crinkled, "we'll get Chinese food and watch Serenity."

Serenity was his favorite movie.

He smiled, "sounds good."

She kissed his cheek before she pushed herself up. Holding onto his hand she looked down at him, "how much longer do you want to work?"

His eyes traveled over the paperwork on his desk before he looked back up at her, "another forty-five minutes maybe." Then he shook his head, "you know what? I don't feel like staying. This is just admin stuff. I can take care of it first thing in the morning. So unless you have something you specifically need to do here, I'd kind of like to go home now."

She squeezed his fingers, "no, I just had two files I needed to read. I'll take them with me." Her lip quirked up, "I can power through before Billy shows up."

After she let go of his hand, she walked back around the desk and then stopped at the door.

"_Is_ it okay if I send Reid up?"

Hotch huffed slightly, "yeah, it's okay. Just tell him everything he needs to know before he gets here and that I really don't want to talk about it."

Her eyes crinkled, "okay."

Just before she opened the door Hotch called out, "and Emily," he smiled, "thank you."

She always knew what he needed even if he didn't want it.

As she turned the knob, she shot him a win, "anytime," then she opened the door, "I'll see you in a few minutes."

/////////

Reid looked up anxiously as Emily stepped out of Hotch's office. He waited until the door was shut before he asked worriedly, "well?"

Morgan had left a few minutes ago telling him that it wasn't a good sign that it was taking Emily so long to come out. Basically at that point Spencer was about ready to start packing his desk.

Shaking her head she walked down the stairs, "he's not mad," when she saw his relieved expression she shook her finger at him, "but you need to swear to me Spencer that you're not going to do anything else to 'help' him. And I do mean anything. Don't open the door, don't carry his bag, nothing," she gave him a gentle smile, "just leave him alone, okay hon? He knows you meant well but he needs a little time."

Reid nodded firmly, "okay, I promise. Did you tell him I was sorry?"

Coming over to sit down on his desk she nodded, "I did but you can go poke your head in there and tell him yourself. Just in and out though, he doesn't want to talk."

As Reid nodded again Emily leaned forward with her brow scrunched so she could see his nose.

It was a little swollen.

But before she could ask how he was feeling Garcia came walking up.

"Hey guys, I just got back from my training, anything exciting . . ."

Her eyes widened as she exclaimed, "SNOOKUMS WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR PRETTY FACE?

Reid cringed slightly, "um, Hotch hit me, but it was kind of an accident,"

Emily interjected, "and he's sorry."

Garcia looked back and forth between the two of them, "what do you mean, 'kind of' an accident? Hotch is not known for randomly losing control of his fists and striking members of the team."

Her eyebrows narrowed as she looked over at Reid suspiciously.

"Spencer Xavier Reid, what did you do?"

Reid's face started to burn . . . figures Garcia would be the only person in the place that hadn't heard yet.

"I um, well, you see . . ." he took a breath, trying to stop stammering and just spit it out, "you know Hotch still isn't really healed yet and I thought he needed some help with something," he sighed, "that it turned out he didn't need help with."

Garcia raised her eyebrow as her arms crossed at her chest, "and what pray tell, did you try to help el jefe hombre do?"

Reid's head dropped down and he started mumbling, "well, I was coming back from the copier and he was coming down the stairs and he was carrying some files in his good arm and I uh, noticed that his um, fly was unzipped and I uh . . . fixed it for him."

Slapping her hand over her mouth, Garcia snorted, "I'm sorry, I must have heard you wrong. You're not telling me that you actually ZIPPED Hotch's fly?"

Seeing that Reid was about to start stuttering again, Emily interjected, "yes, that is what happened," she looked down at Reid, "but he's very sorry and he now sees the error of his ways. And Hotch is also very sorry he punched him in the nose and now we're all going to move on from this and never speak of it again." She shot a look at Garcia, "right Penelope."

Garcia's lips twitched, "of course Emily, but I just need to say one thing to our boy first."

Leaning down, Garcia got right into Reid's face, "sweetie pie I love you dearly but if you ever put your hands on MY crotch I'm tossing your skinny ass through the nearest plate glass window, understood?"

Eyes widened in fear, Reid's head bounced up and down like it was spring loaded.

"YES, MA'AM!"

* * *

_A/N 2: When I got the idea for this I was thinking of the day after Hotch's injury when he turned around to find Reid in the bathroom asking if he needed any help. _

_I don't know if Reid's middle name was ever mentioned before but I thought Xavier worked._

_I think I'll be jumping ahead to Saturday, prep for Em's birthday. And you know what's funny? The way this is shaping up, Emily's birthday will be our 100__th__ chapter! So we'll actually have something special for number 100._


	100. Frisbies, Frankies & Hoochie Mamas

**Author's Note**: This one is set up a little differently than my usual. I actually cover a whole week in this one chapter. I was going to cut it at the break but I figured, seeing as I've been posting less frequently lately that I'd extend it out. And that's because I didn't really have anything specific in mind for the in between portion. And the main reason I didn't have anything in mind for the in between was because Hotch would still be fairly limited mobility wise for this timeframe. And to keep pushing that angle would be a little tedious. We've already devoted EIGHT chapters to Hotch's injury and follow-up and I think that's enough. So we're skimming ahead to her actual birthday.

The first segment is one and a half weeks out from Hotch's injury, and the second part is two and a half week's out.

Reminder: Sean is Hotch's little brother. He had the big car accident a few months ago (Chp 66).

As this is our celebrated 100th chapter (God help me!) I did give you a little bit of kissing. Just a little though.

*******************************************

_Early October_

**Frisbees, Frankies & Hoochie Mamas**

"Hey, what are you doing for your birthday?"

Emily tossed the Frisbee back to Jack as she answered Hotch.

"Nothing really, though I'm sure I'll see my mother at some point. Dad's out of town of course so it will just be the two of us in some really fancy restaurant trying to make small talk last an hour and a half."

She smiled as Jack tried to get a good spin going back on the Frisbee and ended up falling on his bottom.

Hotch's lip also quirked up at Jack's acrobatics before he turned back to Emily, "well if you're not really busy I thought you might want to come to New York with me. Sean's having a big opening for his new restaurant. Some sort of an old school big band era themed private party for the backers and I promised I'd go."

Emily broke into a huge grin, "I'd love to go! That sounds like fun!"

Hotch's face lit up "great!

He was so relieved she'd said yes! He'd hated the idea of leaving her on her birthday, but he'd already promised Sean he'd go to the party before he knew what day it was. And he really didn't want to cancel the first get together they'd planned after his brother's accident.

With a slight grimace Hotch caught the Frisbee back from Jack. This was doctor approved, low impact stretching. Right now the impact didn't feel so low. Then he raised an eyebrow as he tossed it to Emily, "oh hey, one thing, because it's the long weekend they are actually doing the party on Sunday. Are you sure your mother won't mind you being away for your actual birthday?"

Emily simultaneously rolled her eyes, caught the Frisbee, and tossed it to Jack, "it certainly wouldn't be the first birthday my mother and I spent apart." Then she realized she was being unkind. Since she'd had that talk with her after the gala her mother had been trying really hard to warm up their relationship. Emily twitched her jaw, "you know what? I'll just ask if she wants to get dinner on Friday."

Nodding Hotch said, "that sounds good, we won't be leaving until Sunday, I have to drop Jack off by nine a.m., which reminds me . . ." Hotch checked his watch and yelled over to Jack, "come on buddy, we have to get going!"

Giving a dramatic sigh Jack trudged over whining, "but daaaddy I want to play with Miss Emmmily!"

Both Hotch and Emily put their hands up to their mouths to cover their reactions to the mini-meltdown. It was very uncharacteristic, he must be tired. Hotch cleared his throat and leaned down to rub his son's shoulder, "I know you want to play buddy but Miss Emily has to go home now."

Nodding Emily agreed, "I really do honey," she gave an exaggerated yawn, "I'm soooo tired I have to get right to bed."

Jack started giggling, "you're silly, it's not bedtime yet. The sunshine's still out."

Spinning around Emily looked up surprised, "is it? Well, then we'd better hurry up and get home before it gets dark out."

Jack looked perplexed for a moment and then he nodded to Hotch, "yeah daddy we have to get home before it's dark out." He grabbed Hotch's hand and began to drag him towards the footpath.

As they walked out of the park with Jack skipping between them Hotch turned to Emily chuckling.

"That was very impressive Prentiss."

Emily laughed, lowering her voice over Jack's head, "well the day I can't outthink a three year old is the day I need to find a new line of work."

Tipping his head Hotch agreed, "true."

As it was still only mid-afternoon, Jack and Hotch accompanied Emily on the short walk back to her building where they said goodbye. Emily smothering Jack in kisses until he was giggling like a fiend. She looked up to Hotch's mouth twitching at their antics and she quirked up her own lip before she kissed him on the cheek.

Raising a severe eyebrow she wiped her lipstick away, "you just get the one though mister."

Hotch responded drolly, "good thing. Any more than that and you know me, I'd be giggling like this one" he gestured to Jack, "and that would be bad right now because I have to go to the bathroom."

Emily started laughing at both Hotch's joke and the idea of him actually "giggling" under any circumstances. She snorted.

"Do you want to come up and use the bathroom?"

Closing his eyes briefly Hotch shook his head, "no it's fine, we'll be home soon." He tugged on Jack's hand, "come on buddy."

Waving as they walked away Emily called out, "bye boys," to which Jack turned around yelling, "bye bye Miss Emily!" And Hotch quickly followed suit as he waved over his shoulder while tugging Jack along, "yes, bye, bye Miss Emily."

Laughing Emily ran up her steps as she made a mental note to go shopping for a new dress before next weekend.

////////

The team was scheduled to give lectures the entire week so the chances of them getting called away on a case were slim. Emily had her fingers crossed nonetheless though. She hardly ever did anything special for her birthday and she was really looking forward to the trip to New York. Obviously her last visit there hadn't been a pleasant one so she was also relieved to be able to replace those most recent memories with happier ones.

And as she stood now in the changing room twirling around in the lavender cocktail dress she grinned before she yelled over the door to JJ.

"I GOT IT!"

///////

By Sunday morning it had been a little over two weeks since the shooting and Hotch was feeling really good. Average recovery time for his type of injury was three to five weeks and he was on target to hit the low end of those statistics. For the most part his routine was back to something resembling normal. On the downside, he wasn't cleared for field duty yet, and he still couldn't lift Jack, or Emily for that matter. But hugs were back on the agenda, as was basic stretching and lifting, provided he kept all the lifting under twenty-five pounds.

And to that end he made sure to pack light for their trip, which wasn't too hard given they were only going overnight.

After dropping Jack off at Haley's he drove straight to Emily's, parking in her extra spot before he headed into the building.

She was going to meet him in the lobby so they could catch a cab straight to the airport. Their flight was at 11:00 and he'd told Emily he'd meet her at 9:30. It was presently almost 9:40. And when he walked through the front door he saw her sitting in the corner, tapping her foot anxiously on the marble floor. His lips twitched when he saw the dirty look the doorman was giving her.

Apparently the foot tapping had been going on for a little while now.

Emily was really excited about her birthday trip and she jumped up immediately when she saw Hotch come through the door. Grabbing her bag off the floor she hurried over to him with a big smile.

"Hi!"

He flashed her a dimple, "hi, sorry I'm a little late."

They stared at each other for a moment before they both dropped their bags and he pulled her into a hug, squeezing as tightly as he could stand it as he tipped his head down to whisper in her ear, "happy birthday pretty girl."

She grinned against his chest as she whispered back, "thanks."

This was already shaping up to be a good day and they hadn't even left the building yet. Pulling back slightly she looked up at him and smiled.

"Thank God you're hug friendly again!"

With a mock scowl he looked back at her, "hey, I was always hug friendly, it's my ribs that weren't."

Her eyes crinkled as she tipped her head, "my apologies for the slight."

He tipped his head back, "apologies accepted."

Leaning down he started kissing her repeatedly on the left cheek and when she started laughing he grinned, "those are from Jack. He said, and I quote, 'give Miss Emily whole bunches of kisses just like she gives me'," he quirked his lip up before leaning down to place a quick peck on her lips, pulling back with a wink, "that one was from me. Jack thinks kissing girls on the lips is gross."

Chuckling, she reached up with her thumb to wipe the gloss off of his mouth, "I assume you'll correct this misconception of his at some point?"

Hotch nodded seriously as he rubbed his hand down her back, "yes, when he's eighteen, I'll tell him it's not so bad."

Emily laughed, "I have a feeling he'll figure that one out before then."

Shaking his head Hotch sighed, "that's my fear too. I'm just hoping to keep all those . . .," he looked down at her quizzically, "what do you call them again?"

She raised her eyebrow, "skanky, hoochie mamas?"

He nodded, "yeah them. I'd like to keep them away from my boy."

Snorting Emily reached down to pick up her bag, "well, though I too am anti Jack dating a skanky hoochie mama at any stage in his life, I think he could probably find a nice girl to start kissing a couple years before he's old enough to vote."

Shaking his head, Hotch sighed in exasperation as he leaned over to get his own bag, "we'll see."

Mouth quivering, Emily looked down at him. God he was funny. If he was this bad with Jack she couldn't even imagine what he'd be like with a daughter.

Probably lock her in her room until she was thirty.

When he stood back up, she smiled as she took his hand and started walking to the door.

"I'm really excited about my trip. And I'm going to say thank you now in case I forget later."

He huffed as they stepped into the foyer, "well then I guess I'll say you're welcome now in case I forget later."

Her lip quirked up as they went outside to catch a cab to National.

///////

Both Hotch and Emily were cleared to carry their weapons on a domestic flight so they made quick work of security and after a brief wait for boarding, they were soon heading down the gangplank.

Though she had paid him back, Hotch had booked the tickets and Emily was pleased he had picked seats close to the front. Though the only problem booking last minute was that he wasn't able to get anything but two seats on a row of three.

Which meant one of them was going to have to sit in the middle and one was getting the window. Hotch figured, and Emily begrudgingly agreed, that she was the smaller person so her being "squished," her word, would be less uncomfortable than it would be for him.

Hotch was very pleased he was able to store their bags without any assistance from her. It was nice to be out in public and not get dirty looks anymore when Emily had to perform the more 'traditional' male responsibilities.

After they settled into their seats, Emily broke out her book and Hotch started eying the other passengers around them. Trying to determine now if anyone was going to piss him off later.

Both of them looked up when their third seat mate made his appearance.

Emily stifled a groan.

Thirties, gold chain, slicked back hair, and wearing an Adidas sweat suit, known as a 'tuxedo' in certain parts of the country. He took one look at her and flashed a cocky grin.

"Hey I'm Frankie. How you doin'?"

Choosing not to disclose her own name, Emily smiled politely in return, "I'm fine thank you."

She was embarrassed to admit to herself that he looked a great deal like a guy she'd dated when she was eighteen. But that was really just to piss off her mother.

Even Emily's horrible taste in men was a little better than this.

"Frankie" flashed the grin again as he stored his bag and went back to use the lavatory, or as he told her, "gotta take a piss."

Watching over her shoulder until the bathroom door shut, Emily closed her book and turned to Hotch with a completely unapologetic pout. He sighed, shaking his head as he undid his seatbelt and stood up, switching seats with her before her new friend returned.

Thirty seconds later Frankie was sauntering down the aisle ready to chat up the hot chick sitting next to him. As he dropped into his seat, he was already talking to her, "so what . . ."

He stopped short as he realized the hot brunette wasn't sitting where he left her. That angry dude that had been next to her was now in her seat.

Hotch looked up, narrowing his eyes as he smiled coldly, "hi, Aaron Hotchner. I guess we'll be sitting together," he put his hand on Emily's knee, "my girlfriend decided she wanted to look out the window."

Smiling cheerfully from Hotch's other side Emily piped up as she leaned over, "yeah, I hardly ever get to fly and the view is my favorite part."

Frankie looked down as the guy ran his hand up the chick's leg.

GOD DAMN IT!

He'd thought he was going to have a good time. Rolling his eyes, he pulled out his iPod. Eh, screw her. She wasn't that good looking anyway. He glanced over one more time, all right yeah she was, but she's reading her book with one arm wrapped around the guy. All that 'lovey dovey' crap. He grunted as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Hotch huffed slightly at "Frankie's" annoyance and then realized he could probably take his hand off of Emily's knee now. He squeezed it once and then pulled his hand back as he crossed his arms at his chest, closing his eyes too. Jack had worn him out that weekend and he wanted to get a nap in before they landed. They had a busy evening and he didn't want to be dragging at the party.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he felt Emily put her head on his shoulder.

Emily was halfway through chapter one of her book when she felt Hotch's head drop and brush against hers. She flicked her eyes over and gave him a little smile . . . sleeping like a baby.

She'd gone to bed early last night so she wouldn't be tired today, but she knew Jack was a handful. Sighing contentedly she rubbed his arm before turning back to her book.

Hotch didn't wake up until the plane touched down at LaGuardia.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I did grow up in a part of the world where a matching Addidas sweatsuit was/is considered a type of tuxedo. Not by MY family but I have been to many house parties where that was fine eveningwear apparel. Frankie is not a caricature, Frankie is very much like real people I have known._

_Three to five weeks is a normal recovery period for bruised ribs. I checked, twice. Depending of course on the severity and the person. Hotch is in good shape so I decided closer to three weeks worked for him. But I didn't want him to be magically all better so he's still got some limitations._

_And I know I said I was going to dial down the 'on the lips' kissing for awhile but it is her birthday so a birthday kiss would be perfectly acceptable, and really, given the nature of their relationship, it would be expected. _

_I didn't cover JJ/Em's shopping trip in detail because it would have really just been more of the same as last time. Though I have to say, I once again found a perfect dress for her! The image this time is a weird shape though so, though it is my avatar for now, I can't put it up correctly. It cuts off the bottom and that's the best part. But if you want to see it in full let me know and I'll send you the picture. And I picked the purple because I thought with her pale skin and black hair that would be really cool for this kind of party. Kind of a classy goth. And I'm pretty sure that's a color we haven't seen her in yet. I know everyone likes her in red, I do too, but you know I like to be different :) Also, if you're as pretty as PB, I think you can experiment with different colors because really, nothing is going to look 'bad.'_

_I actually do have the whole next segment written, so I can post tomorrow. Yay! Though I didn't actually get around to writing the party yet. Boo! But I'll try to get it done in the next day or so and maybe get that up by the weekend. I'm thinking maybe 4 or 5 chapters covering their whole trip._

_Next: "__**Making Her Happy**__"_


	101. Making Her Happy

**Author's Note**: More birthday

*******************************************

_Early October: Sunday_

**Making Her Happy**

A nice hotel in Manhattan wasn't cheap so they had decided to share a room. Considering that they had slept in the same bed together before, they could certainly make do with two doubles.

It made sense to them. But as they stood checking in at the front desk the hotel clerk looked between them and then back down at the reservation.

"I'm sorry folks, its looks like there's been some kind of mix-up. We have you down for two doubles."

Hotch nodded, "yeah that's correct."

The clerk didn't say anything else but he looked perplexed as he turned back to his computer. So Emily decided to amuse herself as she smiled sweetly and wrapped her arm around Hotch's, "we're saving ourselves for marriage."

Hotch's mouth started twitching at Emily's announcement, and it only got worse as the clerk looked up in surprise and then nodded enthusiastically, "oh, okay!" he bopped his head happily as he verified Hotch's credit card information, "good for you!"

At the clerk's enthusiastic support of their chosen life of celibacy, Hotch 'coughed,' turning away from the counter as he rubbed his hand over his mouth. Emily patted his arm and turned to the clerk.

"He has a little tickle in his throat, I'll finish checking us in."

Emily accepted their two key cards and walked over to Hotch who was standing to the side with their bags on his shoulder. She smiled brightly, "feeling better honey?"

Hotch gave her a bemused look as he narrowed his eyebrows, "you have fun back there?"

Emily pursed her lips, "I suppose," then she raised a lascivious eyebrow, "I would have had more fun if you'd stuck around. We could have given Chad a show to go along with the celibacy story!"

Seeing the look she got in response to that plan, Emily burst out laughing, wrapping her arm around his waist as she started guiding him towards the elevators.

"You're so much fun when you're angry!"

Looking down at her Hotch shook his head, but he could feel his eyes crinkle. "I'm pretty sure you're the only person that feels that way."

Emily patted his stomach, "perhaps, but it's still a good time for me," she quirked up her lip, "and that's all that matters."

Hotch's lips twitched. He supposed that was true. He'd found that as long as she was happy, he was happy, and one of her favorite pastimes was trying to get a rise out of him. Emily grabbed his hand, tipping her head pointedly to the left as she whispered anxiously.

"Is that Robert DeNiro over there with the green bag?"

Hotch looked over to where she was gesturing. He shook his head as he hit the button for the elevator, "definitely no. For one thing the concierge just called him, 'Mr. Weinstock,' and for another, doesn't DeNiro live in New York? Why would he be staying in a hotel?"

Emily shrugged, "I don't know. Why are we in a hotel?"

The elevator arrived as Hotch looked down at her blankly, "because we don't live here Emily."

Rolling her eyes she sighed dramatically, "yes _Aaron_, I KNOW that we don't live here. I meant . . . ," she made a grandiose gesture, "why are we in a hotel, in the 'why does anybody do anything' sense of the word." Hotch just looked at her and Emily narrowed her eyes as she sputtered impatiently, "just, just get on the elevator."

Stepping into the car, they moved over to the corner to make room for another couple that had just arrived. Emily crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall next to Hotch. He could see her eyebrows were still scrunched together. And he wasn't sure quite why _he_ was eliciting that look of exasperation given that _she_ was the one that brought the whole thing up.

But then he remembered it was her birthday.

He should indulge her ridiculousness for one day because he had the whole other 364 days to point out the logical inconsistencies in the things that came out of her mouth. He bumped his arm against hers as he whispered.

"You want me to go back and get Mr. Weinstock's autograph?"

Emily could feel her mouth starting to twitch as she looked up at him. Seeing that one of his dimples had appeared, her eyes crinkled as she shook her head.

"No, that's okay, but thanks."

He tipped his head, "if you're sure."

She cleared her throat, "I'm sure." And with a bemused expression she leaned against his side for the rest of the ride up, watching the little red lights climb higher, finally stopping at 32.

As Hotch unconsciously ran his hand down her back guiding her off the elevator, Emily once again wondered how she ever got annoyed with him anyway. Not that she had intended to actually get mad over something so ridiculous as whether or not that was Robert DeNiro in the lobby, but these days she couldn't even stay _annoyed_ with him more than a couple minutes. He would do something sweet and she'd forget what she'd even been irritated about two minutes earlier.

After one quick wrong turn they found their room and Emily handed over the card keys. She didn't want to ruin her good day. Though his lips may have twitched, Hotch wisely chose to say nothing as he swiped the card and the light immediately turned green. Pushing the door open, he let Emily step in first before he followed, shutting the door behind him and clicking the deadbolt. Emily spun around to face him with a huge smile.

"Oh my God Aaron, it's gorgeous!"

Hotch tossed their bags on the bed closest to the door and his lip quirked up, "I'm glad you approve."

They hadn't had any suites left but he had picked out the room with one special feature. He smiled at her, "go check out the bathroom."

Emily looked at him for a second and then went over, squealing as she opened the door, "GAH! The tub is HUGE!" she leaned around the corner, "ooh, and there's a basket of bath stuff!"

She turned back to him, biting her lip, "did you do that?"

Hotch quirked his upper lip as he dropped down onto the bed next to their bags, "maybe."

With a soft smile she went over and sat down on his knee, wrapping her arms around his chest as she buried her face in his neck, giving him a muffled, "thanks."

Hotch wrapped one arm around her as he squeezed back, "well, it's your birthday and I know you like all the girly bath things so I called ahead to see what they could do to help out." His lips twitched slightly as he put his arms behind him and leaned back on the bed, "if you like the stuff in the basket let me know. I'll make sure Julie the concierge gets an extra tip."

Emily smiled as she stood up, "will do." She looked back down at him, "so what time are we supposed to be at the thing?"

Standing up and grabbing his bag, Hotch answered, "six'ish."

Checking her watch, Emily nodded as she took her own bag off the bed, "okay, that's not for three and a half hours, sooo," she smiled, "I think I'm going to quickly wash my hair and then try out the tub." She turned back at the bathroom door, "how long do you need to get ready? Half hour?"

Hotch shrugged, "if that." Emily nodded as she stepped into the bathroom, "okay, see you in an hour or so."

Nodding absentmindedly he took out his suit, hanging it in the closet as he called over, "take a snorkel!"

Chuckling Emily shut the door and looked around the bathroom. It was massive! There was a huge tub with jets, a separate enclosure for the toilet and a separate enclosure for the shower. The whole thing was twice the size of her master bathroom at home. Her face softened as she started going through the bath products in the basket.

He was such a sweetie.

/////

In honor of the fact that this was a mini-vacation, Hotch had, for a change, left his work at work. So rather than breaking open a case file, as he usually did in a strange hotel room, he settled in with his book, Ghost Wars. He'd taken a closer interest in Afghanistan since one of his buddies was deployed a couple months earlier. This was only the second time he'd actually opened the book though, and he was hoping to finally start making a dent in it this weekend. He'd found once he got to the third or fourth chapter of anything, it was a downhill slide from there. And he was doing pretty well, but after a half an hour he realized that he probably shouldn't have bought that large coffee at the airport. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, he had just woken up, but now he really had to go to the bathroom.

And said bathroom was currently occupied.

He started grinding his teeth, given that she confirmed he could get ready in less than thirty minutes, that meant she was definitely planning on staying in there for awhile yet.

Damn it.

Sighing, he pushed himself up and went over to knock on the door.

"Emily, can I open the door?"

Looking down Emily shifted a few of her bubbles around until she was strategically covered, then she yelled, "okay!"

With his hand over his eyes Hotch opened the door, "I'm sorry but I have to go to the bathroom."

Emily looked over in amusement at his 'see no evil' stance, "okay, you can go to the bathroom. I know you can't see it, but there's actually a separate enclosure."

Horrified, Hotch yelled back, "I can't go with you in here!"

Emily looked at him in astonishment, "you're a guy! You're whipping that thing out in front of other people every day! At least here you have a door!"

Hotch made a face, "okay first of all, don't ever use that whipping it out phrase again. It makes me sound like some kind of deviant. And second, that's simply how the urinal process works, and third, those are men. And you, Emily Rose Prentiss, are most definitely NOT a man."

Emily smirked, "thanks for noticing Hotch. What was your first clue?"

He'd barely uttered the words, "your breasts," before a washcloth hit him in the face.

"Hey, no projectiles! Blind man over here! I can't duck!"

Emily smiled as the water dripped off Hotch's face, "okay, well Blind Man, how about I turn on the faucet? Then you can go engage in whatever 'activities' you need to engage in and my girlish ears won't hear you."

Wiping his hand across his face, Hotch sighed, "I suppose."

Emily went to turn on the faucet with her foot but unfortunately she hit the hot water a little too forcefully and yelped as it hit her leg full force.

Dropping his hand Hotch looked over, "are you okay?"

"Eyes up mister!"

Whipping his gaze back to the ceiling Hotch quickly defended himself, "Emily you cried out in pain! I am _conditioned _to respond to that sound."

Eyes crinkling Emily rubbed her sore leg, "that's very sweet Aaron but if you look over here again, you're going to be the one crying out in pain."

Hotch's lips twitched as he stared upwards, "I didn't see anything." He'd actually seen some good stuff but he wasn't about to tell her that. "So if you're done yelling at me for simply being chivalrous, then I'm going to go to the bathroom now."

Eyes twinkling Emily looked over at Hotch attempting to locate the stall door using only his sense of touch. She cleared her throat.

"As much fun as it would be to see you walk into the wall, if you just put your hand back up to cover your peripheral vision to the left, you just need to take two steps to the right."

Hotch sighed in relief. He knew the most logical way to find the door was to actually USE his eyes, but he was afraid if he'd dropped them down again she would have thrown something a lot more dangerous at his head than a washcloth.

Closing her eyes Emily settled back against the tub as Hotch conducted his business in the adjacent area. She smirked to herself over his discomfort. She couldn't hear anything and, it's not like he was actually in the room! It's just that the little door was more like a changing room door. It didn't go all the way to the floor or the ceiling. But there was certainly sufficient privacy.

And then with her eyes still shut she heard the toilet flush and then the water run, so Emily knew he was on his way out. She waved blindly, yelling out a sarcastic "bye Hotch!"

Hotch smirked as he called back from the door, "that's a cute mole you have on your hip Prentiss."

She nailed him with the bar of soap just before he got the door shut, but, he still felt it was more than worth it.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I actually had that bathroom once. It wasn't in New York though, I was in some other city which I can't recall. Either way though, great bathroom!_

_I really have nothing for notes. Though, one thing, Hotch's offhand mention about his friend getting deployed, that will come back into play in about a month or so._

_The next bit is written but I still haven't gotten to the party. So I can either post that tomorrow as a shorter piece (about 700 words) or wait until I get the party bit done as well. If you'd like to vote, I will go with majority rule. A short post tomorrow or I can hold it until I have a meatier chapter. Even if I get some of the party written, it's not going to be polished enough to go up before the weekend.  
_


	102. The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note**: I did get a chunk of the party done but I only added half of that segment to this one. But now this one is twice as long as it would have been otherwise. Before it would have been cut at the break.

It starts with them still at the hotel.

And apparently there are two acceptable spellings for the broad piece of cloth that comes with a tux, cummerbund and cumberbund. But Microsoft kept yelling at me when I tried to spell it the way I wanted to so I just gave in. Though the way it insisted just looks weird! I looked it up though, they're both right.

*******************************************

_Early October: Sunday_

**The Perfect Gift**

The party wasn't a black tie affair, just a cocktail party, so though Hotch was wearing his new tux, he'd left the cummerbund and bowtie at home. Without those items it was just a really nice black suit, and as he came out of the bathroom he was adjusting the purple tie that Emily had suggested he bring. He looked up.

"Emily are you almost . . ."

And he stopped short, blinking as he stared at her.

"You look gorgeous."

Self consciously brushing her skirt down, Emily gave him a little smile, "thanks, I couldn't really wear the new ball gown for this, and I figured given that it was my birthday that I'd treat myself to a little present." Her eyes crinkled as she looked up at him, "this was much more affordable than the last one though."

It was less than two hundred. Not a lot less, but, less. But it was so pretty she couldn't resist. Plum colored silk tulle with an empire waist. It had scalloped beading on the skirt and more beading at the waist and on the straps. And given that the skirt only came to her knees, it really was much more practical than the ball gown. She could wear this to a nice restaurant. And actually as she thought about it, that was exactly what they were doing tonight, going to a nice restaurant.

Ooh!

Maybe she could get Hotch to take her to Mie N Yu when they got home. That was her favorite restaurant and she hardly ever got to go there. Eh, she'd ask him when they got back. He was certainly doing enough for her already this weekend.

Hotch stepped closer, reaching down to touch the fabric of the skirt.

Silk . . . he fingered the material for a moment . . . just like the last one. Though this one looked completely different. And he was adding purple to the list of colors she looked great in. Though as he thought about it he realized there really weren't any colors she didn't look good in.

His eyes crinkled, she was just too beautiful. And now he understood why she'd suggested he bring his purple tie.

Smiling down at her, he took her hand, walking them over to the bed and sitting down. He could see she was looking curiously at him but he just winked and that made her smile.

He reached under his pillow and pulled out a small jewelry box with a bow on the top.

"I was going to give this to you when we got back but I see now it'll match so," he handed it to her with a dimple, "happy birthday."

Emily's face softened as she looked down at the little black velvet box, touching the red bow.

"I thought my trip was my present."

Not only had he brought her along for the party, which was incredibly nice of him, but he was paying for their whole room. And that was more than enough of a present. It was actually too much but he had insisted.

He shrugged, "well, I didn't really think the room counted as a proper gift. I mean, I had to come anyway so I thought you should have a regular birthday present.

Like he wasn't going to give her a real present for her birthday! In fact, he had bought this for her shortly after they got home from Little Rock. She'd been so good taking care of him, and helping him with Jack that weekend, that he wanted to make sure that he got her something really nice for her birthday. The fact that his brother's party had fallen on the same weekend was just a bonus.

Emily stared at him for a moment, he was so sweet. Then she grinned as she turned to the box, "so what did you get me?"

He quirked his lip up, "open it and find out."

Her eyes crinkling Emily lifted the lid, and then she froze as her eyes began to sting.

"Ooh, Aaron, it's so beautiful."

She gently lifted the silver pendant from the box, dangling it from her fingers.

Hotch looked over nervously, "do you really like it? I know it's a little unusual but opal is your birthstone and I thought the black one suited you."

He was really amazed when he saw what color her dress was. The stone wasn't actually black but mostly shades of dark purple. It matched perfectly.

When she looked over at him her eyes were watering, "I love it," she kissed his cheek, "thank you." Then she handed him the pendant, "can you help me put it on?"

Pulling her hair up, she turned slightly so that he could fasten the small chain around her neck. After she dropped her hair down she looked over at him, "how does it look?"

"The stone looks nice," his eyes crinkled, "YOU, look beautiful."

Lips twitching she stood up to go look in the mirror.

Oh . . . she touched the chain . . . it was gorgeous. And the color was a perfect match for her dress. Just like that night with her roses.

Sometimes she'd swear the man was psychic.

Seeing him in the reflection walking up behind her she spun around and leaned up to smack a kiss on his lips. She was smiling brightly as she pulled back.

"I love it! Thank you!"

Blushing slightly Hotch looked down at her with a little smile, "you're welcome."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a soft smile, "you're the best."

He was always so good to her. He didn't need to buy her another present. The trip was more than enough. But not only did he get her something, he got her something special, something beautiful. Nobody had ever treated her as well as Hotch did.

Her eyes crinkled . . . she was going to get spoiled.

Turning her head she kissed his jaw, and then she felt him the warmth of his hand on the bare skin of her back.

Hotch rubbed his hand down her back, "there was one other reason I liked it," he pulled back so he could see her face, "and you might think this is kind of silly. But I looked them up and opals are supposed to have protective powers. Ward off evil, that kind of thing," he tucked a strand of her hair back, "and you know I don't really buy into that kind of stuff, but I figure it couldn't hurt, right?"

He figured with their jobs, every little bit helped.

Her eyes started watering again as she touched his cheek, "no, it couldn't hurt at all."

Okay, it was official . . . she sniffed . . . he was perfect.

Hotch could see she was getting a little teary, and he didn't want her to mess up her makeup this early in the evening so he figured they should get moving.

He rubbed his hands down her arms, "we should get going. Do you have a coat?"

Her eyes crinkled, "no, I forgot it's cooler up her than in Washington," she tugged on his tie, "so I'll definitely be stealing your jacket at some point."

His lips twitched as he kissed her forehead, "of course, I would expect nothing less." He pulled her into a quick hug and then let go so he could go pick up their room cards off the nightstand. When he turned back Emily had her dress flipped up and he blinked before he looked at the ceiling.

"Uh, Emily?"

Blushing she dropped her skirt back down, "oops. Sorry, I was just fixing my holster, give me one second." She undid the strap and redid it a little higher up her thigh. She started talking to Hotch as she went over to get her sig from off the nightstand.

"I don't wear dresses very often so I don't wear this particular holster very often. It's a little uncomfortable," she slid her gun in, "okay, all set."

Hotch looked down at her and raised his eyebrow in amusement, "kind of sucks being a girl sometimes, huh?"

Rolling her eyes, she sat down on the bed to slip on her shoes, "you have no idea."

Tilting his head to the side he eyed her heels . . . they were of a much more sensible height than last time.

"No little deathtraps this evening?"

Her eyes twinkled as she stood up, "no, no little deathtraps this evening. It's my birthday, and I'd rather not be hobbling around like Nancy Kerrigan before the Olympics."

Hotch snorted, "could you have picked an older joke?"

Emily turned to pick up her evening bag, slipping it over her shoulder before she looked at him with a little smile, "no, probably not. That was from the vault."

Chuckling, Hotch went over, slipping her under his arm as they started walking towards the door.

"Well I'm just pleased I don't have to worry about you breaking your neck tripping over carpet lint."

She huffed indignantly as he pulled the door open.

"I told you! That was a tic tac!"

/////////

The party had officially started at six and by the time they walked in, it was a little after six thirty so the place was filling up. Emily looked over all over the 40s style eveningwear and the art deco décor. And then she heard the band playing Glen Miller and she squealed in delight as she looked up at Hotch.

"Gah! Aaron I love it!"

He grinned, Emily was pretty easy to please but he still wanted to make sure her birthday was special. This was much better than anything he could have done for her at home. Leaning up slightly he looked over the crowded room trying to find his brother.

Ah . . . there . . . over by the kitchen.

Hotch slipped his arm around Emily's waist, "I see Sean, let's go say hi and then I'll get you a drink."

They started across the room, Emily whispering to him, "how's he feeling?"

Hotch shrugged, "he said pretty good. You know he had one more surgery on his leg in early September, but he's off the crutches now. Though he is still using a cane, the doctors expect he'll probably be walking on his own by year end."

Emily nodded, and then smiled as she suddenly spotted the only other man in the room with the defining characteristics of all of the Hotchner men she'd met to date . . . jet black hair and dimples.

God, she was a sucker for those Hotchner dimples.

As they got closer Hotch called out with a wave, "SEAN!"

Sean turned, breaking into a grin as he yelled, "AARON! YOU MADE IT!" He excused himself from the group he was talking to and came over to give his brother a hug before turning to Emily.

As he put his hand out he flashed a dimple, "Sean Hotchner, you must be the birthday girl."

She laughed as she took his hand, "I am indeed the birthday girl, but I usually just go by Emily Prentiss. And thank you so much so letting me come tonight," her eyes traveled over the room, "this place looks amazing."

Sean smiled as he pulled back, leaning on his cane, "we had a good decorator," he tipped his head towards the bar, "and we have a good bartender. There are pomegranate martinis. If you're interested you might want to grab one now, I'm not sure if they'll last all night."

Emily's face lit up as she turned to Hotch, "ooh, I've always wanted to try those!

His eyes crinkled, "okay, I'll go get you one."

She patted his arm, "no, no, you stay and catch up, I'll go," she saw that Sean already had a beer so she looked back at Hotch, "do you want me to get you one too, or do you want your usual?"

Hotch rarely drank anything but Guinness so Emily was really just asking to be polite.

He was about to tell her he'd just get a beer but then he decided to get into the spirit of things and try something new.

"You know what," he smiled, "I think a martini sounds good."

She grinned, "okay, I'll be right back."

Emily headed over to the bar with both of the Hotchner brothers watching her walk away. Once she was out of earshot Sean raised an eyebrow at Hotch, "you didn't tell me she was beautiful."

Hotch snorted as he looked at Emily across the room, "you didn't ask."

Sean tipped his head, "so are you two . . .?"

This was the first girl his brother had even mentioned since he got divorced. The first girl he mentions he brings to New York with him for the weekend. And he'd been 'mentioning her' in pretty much every email and phone call they'd had since his accident.

Hotch shook his head absentmindedly as he watched Emily at the bar, "no, we're just friends."

Lips twitching Sean looked back at him. Friends his ass. He saw the way his brother was looking at her. He decided to screw with him.

"Oh well then if you're just friends then you won't mind if I get her number."

Hotch shot him a look and Sean smirked, "that's what I thought."

Jaw twitching Hotch's eyes automatically went back over to Emily as he responded, "we're not dating but neither of us are dating anyone else right now either," seeing the confused look his brother was giving him Hotch sighed, "I know it sounds strange. But next to Jack, Emily's the most important person in my life. And we like our relationship just as it is, even if it seems a little odd to other people."

Sean stared at him for a moment, "well, whatever you're doing," he smirked, "or not doing, you seem happy. Much happier than you were the last time I saw you."

Hotch snorted, "the last time you saw me you were just coming out of a drug induced coma."

Rolling his eyes Sean said, "yeah, well the time before that then."

He'd always thought Haley was a nice girl but she had never really seemed to be well suited for Aaron. As much as he knew his brother loved being a father, that had never been in his plans. That had all been Haley's idea. She was the one that wanted to start a family. Aaron never had wanted children. And Sean, having grown up in the same household, knew why that was.

But Haley was a homebody, and she wore him down. And a few years later they had a baby. And then she took Jack away. Sean still hadn't forgiven her for that, he wasn't sure if he ever would. He and his brother might not be as close as they could be . . . as they should be . . . but he still knew when he was hurting. And having his kid taken away had almost killed him.

He watched Emily coming back towards them . . . so if this woman could bring him a little happiness again, then Sean was all for it. His lip quirked up as she handed Aaron his drink . . . she was quite a babe too.

Hotch accepted his martini from Emily with thanks and then frowned as he looked at the rim of the glass.

"Why is there lipstick on here?"

Emily wrinkled her nose, "well, they were a little full so I had to take a sip or I would have spilled."

Exhaling in relief he slipped his hand back around her waist, "as long as it's yours, that's all that matters."

Sean snorted and Hotch shot him a look. As if he wouldn't have been completely grossed out too if he found strange lipstick on his glass. Hotch took a small sip and licked his lips. Huh, not bad. A little too fruity to drink for a whole evening but as a onetime only thing, they were pretty good.

In his peripheral vision he could see Emily eyeing him and he looked over at her, "what?"

With a little smile she shook her head, "nothing."

She had actually just been gauging his reaction to what he would ordinarily dismiss as a 'girly' drink. He seemed to like it though. She looked up as Sean cleared his throat.

"Well, if you guys can excuse me for a little bit I see one of my major backers just walking in the door. I should go press some flesh," his eyes crinkled, "it was very nice meeting you Emily. We'll talk more later," he smirked at his brother, "we can compare notes on Aaron's faults, past and present."

Hotch rolled his eyes and Emily grinned, "I'll make a list, we can start alphabetical." Sean chuckled as he walked off towards the door. She leaned her head on Hotch's chest, "I like him. He's a bit more uh . . ." she searched for a diplomatic word, "_outgoing_ than you are sometimes."

Of course despite her best efforts to not hurt his feelings, Hotch still stiffened up and then scowled at her, "are you saying I'm boring?"

What the hell? Two seconds with his little brother and suddenly Sean's a better time than he is.

Emily winced slightly, as much as people tried to pigeon hold Hotch as being cold, he was actually very sensitive. She rubbed her hand up and down his back consolingly, "don't be silly," she winked, "he might also have those fabulous dimples but you know that there's no contest," she kissed his cheek, "you'll always be my favorite Hotchner brother," his lips twitched slightly and she smiled, "I just meant that with new people, and I am a new person for Sean, that YOU are usually a bit more reserved than he was with me."

Emily got sweet, funny, playful Hotch. The rest of the world pretty much still only saw him as single minded and humorless. Perhaps someday she'd get him to loosen up a little, at least with the rest of the team. But for now she was happy to just have the fun parts of him that were hers alone.

The difference between the two brothers was notable though. Given her presumptions about their childhood she assumed that Hotch took the brunt of whatever had been given out.

She started to feel terribly sad thinking about him being hurt like that and she shook her head slightly trying to clear those thoughts.

It was a long time ago and he was here with her now, safe and sound.

Hotch stared at her for a moment . . . okay she might have a small point there. Sean had always been faster to warm up to strangers than Hotch himself had been. And Emily was also very personable so it would make sense that they would get along. Hell, he wanted them to get along. He wasn't sure why he was letting himself get worked up.

He rubbed is hand down Emily's side and she tipped her head onto his chest again, "let's go sit down and finish our drinks. And then you can take me dancing."

Seeing a bench over in the far corner with a cushion on it, Hotch's eyes crinkled as he started walking them over, "dancing, huh? Just because it's your birthday you expect dancing."

She nodded, "yep, I expect at least three. But I won't torture you with any jitterbugging."

He chuckled as they sat down, "do you actually know how to jitterbug?"

With a roll of her eyes she settled into his side and he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Of course. My mother had me taking dance lessons from the age of five. And then there was a whole separate class of just ballet to work on my grace," she felt Hotch shake with laughter and she rolled her eyes, "yes, I think we all know how well _that _turned out. But beyond that I also had proper instruction on my table manners, my posture and my wardrobe," she snorted, "if mother could have sent me to charm school she would have."

Hotch kissed the top of her head, "well professional diploma or not, I think you turned out quite charming." She almost spilled her drink as she chuckled, "thanks." He leaned his head against hers as he whispered, "and I have a little secret."

Her lips twitched, "do tell."

He smirked, "I actually do know how to jitterbug. My mother also insisted on dance lessons, though mine started at the age of seven."

Emily's face lit up and she whipped her head around, "does that mean . . ."

He tipped his head, "just one, and just because it's your birthday," he gave her a mock scowl, "and you never tell anyone."

Her mouth quivered, "of course not," she looked down at his mostly full glass, "you might want to drink up. I haven't danced like that in about thirty years. I'm liable to take your toes out."

Huffing Hotch picked up his drink and tossed back the rest in one gulp. He raised his eyebrow and she grinned before doing the same. Wiping the corner of her mouth she laughed, "you know I haven't eaten anything in hours. I'm going to be a little tipsy now."

His lips twitched, "as am I, at least you had cookies this afternoon, I've eaten nothing since this morning," he raised his eyebrow, "hopefully you can keep your hands to yourself and not try to take advantage of me in my sensitive condition."

Laughing, Emily stood up a little unsteadily, and then looking back down at him she put her hand out, "I'll promise to keep my hands above the waist, if you promise . . ."

And then she realized what she was saying and started to get red, "oops."

Chuckling, Hotch stood up and grabbed her hand, "oops indeed. That tradeoff won't quite work." He wrapped her against him as he kissed her forehead, "I'll just promise to be good."

Snorting Emily sighed against his chest, "not too good I hope. It is my birthday after all." She smiled as she felt Hotch's laughter vibrating through his chest, and then his hand ran down her back, "but you told me my days of scientific discovery were over."

Leaning back she winked at him, "never say never."

He grinned, "such a tease," and then he shook his head sadly, "and trying to pull me out of scientific retirement under false pretenses. I'm disappointed in you Agent Prentiss."

Rolling her eyes she started to tug him towards the dance floor, "as I said it's my birthday," she looked back up at him with a saucy grin, "and I'm just keeping my options open."

She did so love to flirt with him.

Chuckling he twirled her around as they got to the dance floor, and then pulled her back against him where he planted a quick kiss on her lips, pulling back with a small grin, "options are important."

She smiled as her arms looped around his neck, "that's all I'm saying." She looked around them, everybody else was waltzing, and then she raised her eyebrow as she looked up at him, "you do know that this is not a jitterbug song, right? This is a waltz."

He looked down at her in amusement, "yes, I do know that, and I'd like to point out that you're the one that dragged us out here. But fortunately, I do know the difference between a waltz and a jitterbug. If I had let you lead we'd look like damn fools right now," his mouth quivered, "and as long as we're discussing the obvious, you do know that I'm not having sex with you even if it is your birthday?"

Lips twitching she looked up at him, "yes, I do know that," she looked at him for a moment, her face softening and then she laid her head down on his chest whispering, "that's not what I wanted anyway."

His expression softened as well and then he tipped his head down to rest against hers as he whispered back, "I know what you want. And actually I have a surprise for you. We can when we get back to the hotel."

Emily looked up hopefully, "really?"

His eyes crinkled slightly as he looked down at her, "yep, I talked to the doctor, we're good to go."

Her face lit up, "YAY!"

Hotch laughed as he kissed the top of her head. It had been two and a half weeks since his injury and he was very happy to say that his ribs could finally support this most important activity. And this activity was all she had wanted for her birthday . . . his face softened as he wrapped his arms around her . . . a proper cuddle.

She mentioned it on Wednesday, the last time she was laying on the couch with him, that she couldn't wait until he was all better. So Hotch had asked the doctor when he went for his check up on Friday. Of course he didn't phrase it as cuddling, that would have been really lame. No, he just asked if he was well enough for sex, that sounded much more manly. He figured if the doctor cleared him for that then he was cleared for other, less _aerobic_ activities.

The doctor had cleared him for sex, with some slight restrictions, but Hotch hadn't really been listening to those. He wasn't trying to have sex this weekend. All he cared about was the fact that he wouldn't have a collapsed lung if he tried. That meant he could basically do anything else he wanted. So he'd tuned the doctor out after yes, figuring he'd save this one as a surprise birthday present for Emily.

Feeling her press a kiss to his jaw he huffed . . . and he was glad that he had.

Gah! She was so excited! This was better than sex! Well . . . she wrinkled her brow as she actually considered the two activities. And then decided that yes, she actually _would_ pick cuddling with Hotch over sex with any of her last three boyfriends.

Huh.

A little thought tried to push its way forward at that revelation but it got pushed away as Hotch patted her on the back.

"I see the appetizers are coming out. Do you want to go get some food?"

Her head popped up and his lips twitched.

"Right, dumb question."

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_A/N 2: God, trying to think of a present for him to give her was like trying to find a present for a real person! I thought the opal worked though. And the black ones do come in shades of purple and they are supposed to ward off evil spirits so that all fell together nicely. It was something special but because it was HER birthstone it wasn't too overtly 'romantic.' Though of course it was. And I almost let Emily have that little realization about her feelings just because they aren't freaking morons. But actually, she's about 2 weeks, and he's about 3 weeks, away from the light dawning. As you can see, they are much more demonstratively affectionate now than they were before. And they were pretty demonstrative before, but definitely not in public. Even if they are out of town._

_I did have a little bit of canon to draw Hotch's brother from. He was in one episode in the first season. I think he was onscreen for like 2 minutes, but overall he did seem to be the more outgoing younger brother. And there was supposed to be like a 16 yr age difference between them so I guess he'd be around 31 at this point._

_And I had to have Emily find a place to wear her gun because they are out of town and they would have to bring their weapons with them in case they got called immediately into work. And Hotch could easily tuck his away under his jacket, which wasn't an option for her. But she certainly wouldn't have left it back at the hotel room so she had to wear that thigh holster. Though I had her adjust it because, to me, it sounds wicked uncomfortable. I was just watching that new show, Warehouse 13, and the Secret Service agent pulls her gun out from under her dress and I was thinking 'damn, that can't be fun walking around with that there!' Doesn't it like chafe your other thigh? I know some lady cops but certainly none that would wear a gun and a dress so I have no direct resources on this issue. If anyone knows, I'm curious.  
_

_Emily's favorite restaurant in Washington is my favorite restaurant. It's in Georgetown, it is a bit expensive but it's flipping fabulous! Mie N Yu (pronounced Me and You), if you look up the website you can see the pictures of all the theme areas. It's like the coolest restaurant/bar I've ever been to. And I've been to a few bars in my day :) And the food is so good. _

_I think one more for her birthday, maybe two if I go back to the hotel with them._

_Next: "__**Make A Wish**__"_


	103. Make A Wish

**Author's Note:** More party. And something in here worked well for one of the prompts so I took that too :) Though I am still planning on using that one for something completely different too.

**Allusions:** Chp. 87, _Father Knows Best_

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**Prompt Set #8**

Show: Ally McBeal

Title Challenge: The Green Monster

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_Early October: Sunday_

**Make a Wish**

A few hours, a few appetizers, two additional waltzes and one jitterbug later, Hotch was sitting at one of the tables, tapping his foot anxiously, desperately wishing that Emily would return from the bathroom.

There was a woman, a very persistent woman, wearing too much perfume, who kept inching closer to him, trying to get his number.

She'd pounced the moment Emily had walked away.

Which personally he thought was pretty rude! It was obvious that they were there together. Yeah, they weren't _dating_, but what if they were?! What kind of woman swoops in like that on a man that already has a girlfriend? He scowled to himself, no kind that he wanted to spend time with.

Not that he would have wanted to spend time with this woman anyway. He certainly wasn't looking for a date! And even if he was, which he wasn't, she was a little too garishly made up to really be attractive. He supposed underneath the globs of paint and bleached hair that she might have been pretty once, but now she just looked kind of scary. But he wasn't that hung up on looks, it was her clear demonstration of poor character that was her major flaw. So he had a solid reason to actually dislike her, rather than just trying to avoid her on the simple principle that he wasn't interested.

But still . . . he sighed . . . he was trying not to be rude.

This was his brother's party and he knew the invited guests were all backers and friends of the investors. He didn't want to cause a problem for Sean. It's not like it wasn't obvious that the two of them were related. So he was calling up all of his reserves of southern charm trying to just kill time until Emily got back.

Emily would take care of this woman. Of that he had no doubt. And because Emily was a woman, she could get away with a lot more than he could.

Stepping around the line at the ladies room entrance, Emily started back across the restaurant. And then she stopped, narrowing her eyes when she saw Hotch inching away from the bleached blonde in the slutty red dress. If there was one thing that Emily did not condone it was interlopers. It didn't matter that they weren't dating, that was SO not the point! That woman had been sitting there when she left the table. She KNEW that Hotch was there with Emily and still she was trying to dig her hooks into him. Literally! She was feeling him up!

Skank!

Emily's expression softened slightly when she saw how uncomfortable he looked. It was obvious he was trying not to be rude because this was his brother's party.

Well . . . jaw twitching, Emily started towards them . . . she was under no such restrictions.

Seeing Emily walk up Hotch sighed with relief . . . thank God! She'd make this awful woman go away.

Emily's gaze focused on the blonde next to Hotch, he was almost off the bench he had slid so far away from her. Emily's eyebrow went up when she saw the red manicured nails dug into his jacket. She had a vice grip on his bicep . . . Emily wanted to break her fingers.

Instead she smiled coldly, "perhaps you're of low intelligence and didn't deduce from the fact that this gentleman has had his arm around me all night that he's taken," Emily leaned down, focusing her glare, "he's with me. So you might want to take your hands off him and move along now before that cheap polyester dress gets messed up. One little tear and those fake tits of yours are going to be bouncing all over that fine silk tablecloth."

Putting his hand up to his mouth Hotch tried to cover his snort with a cough. The woman's nails dug into his arm for a moment as she shot him a glare and then she focused her attention on Emily with a smirk.

"I don't see a ring on his finger, and HE has not asked me to leave."

Seeing that Emily was about to come over the table Hotch put his hand up as he turned to the woman in amazement, "really? That's your response? I'm _obviously_ here with her. And I was only trying to be polite to you because I don't know who you are. But I think we're past that. And I can say that what I have seen of you does not impress me. And if you think I'd pick _you_ over her," he winked at Emily before looking back at the woman, "apparently you are quite dense," he narrowed his eyebrows, "now, PLEASE leave."

Jaw twitching the woman pulled her hand back and slid down the bench away from Hotch. Picking up her purse, she stood up with a huff, deliberately brushing Emily as she said cattily, "he's not that good looking anyway."

Emily smirked, "yeah he is," and then she subtly hip checked the other woman, causing her to bump into a man who was walking behind them.

His glass of wine went down the front of her dress and the blonde screeched at him.

Biting his lip to hide his grin, Hotch quickly stood up, hustling Emily away before she caused any more damage. Taking her over to the corner of the room, he pinned her in so she couldn't continue her pissing contest with the other woman.

Lips twitching he looked down at her, "are you having a good time?"

Eyes sparkling, she grinned at him, "you know it baby!"

Chuckling, he pulled her against his chest, kissing the top of her head, "well, I'm glad. But perhaps we should avoid that woman for the rest of the evening," he tipped his head, "if she stays of course," he added drolly, "it appears she got something on her dress."

Emily leaned back, her mouth quivering, "I hope those tits are washable. Red wine's a bitch to get out."

Hotch stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing as he shook his head, "what am I going to do with you?"

Grinning she tugged on his tie so he'd lean down and then she whispered in his ear, "you could take me dancing again."

They were already well over the three she'd asked for, but she loved to dance with Hotch. He was really good!

Jaw twisting he looked down at her speculatively, "hmm, I could do that. But I think you've already had your three dances and then some," he raised his eyebrow, "do you have any incentive for me to agree to yet another trip to the dance floor?"

They both knew he was just teasing her but Emily still pulled out the big gun . . . the sad pout.

"But it's my birthday."

"Well," he pressed a quick kiss to that adorable pout, "I guess that's reason enough." He smirked, "now put that thing away before you hurt somebody."

They didn't usually kiss so much on the mouth, but, for some reason he couldn't stop today. Eh, it was okay. It was just because it was her birthday.

Emily's jaw quivered as she rubbed her thumb across his lips. She'd just put her lipstick back on in the bathroom. It was lavender. And it was now blotted right on Hotch's mouth.

At least it matched his tie.

She giggled, "you look like a very poorly made up transsexual."

He raised his eyebrow, "I'm not sure if I should be insulted or relieved."

Her eyes twinkled as she pressed her hands against his chest, "it's only because your lipstick is crooked. But I can make you pretty if you want. I have my makeup in my bag."

Glaring at her he slipped his hands around her waist, "uh, no. And if I wake up tomorrow with mascara on I'm _not _going to be pleased Prentiss."

Her face lit up, "ooh! I didn't even think of that! That would be really funny!"

Without thinking he lifted her up until he could glare at her nose to nose, "NO!"

God, now he was going to have to sleep with one eye open!

She started to giggle as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and then she realized she was about four inches off the ground.

Turning her face to his ear she whispered, "you just picked me up. I thought you weren't supposed to do that."

His brow furrowed, huh, he had just picked her up. And aside from some twinging, not intolerable twinging, it didn't really hurt. Certainly nothing like the stabbing pain he'd had when he tried to lift Jack a few weeks ago. He'd become so accustomed to the twinges that if she hadn't said anything he probably wouldn't have even remembered he wasn't supposed to be engaging in this activity yet. And he probably shouldn't do it again for another week, but as long as the damage was done . . . his eyes crinkled as he squeezed her to his chest.

"Yeah, I wasn't supposed to do that. Oh well," he ran his hand up and down her back, "doesn't hurt."

Well, not enough to concern him, and therefore not enough to mention to her. This was a happy accident, and he was going to get his thirty seconds of proper hugging in while he could.

Emily's face softened as her arms tightened and she tipped her head against his.

Hotch was the best hugger around.

After a few more seconds he slowly lowered her to the ground, wincing slightly in the process. Still just a twinge, but sharp enough to remind him not to do that again for a few more days. She looked up worriedly and he smiled and squeezed her hand, "I'm fine. But maybe we should sit down for a minute."

He felt basically okay, he just figured it would be best if he rested for a little bit before he took her dancing again. It would be stupid to keep pushing when all he probably needed was five minutes and the twinging would subside on its own.

Her eyes softened as she ran her hand down his arm, "of course. And I have some Motrin in my bag. Maybe you should take one," she tipped her head when he saw him about to argue, "they're just low dose, and even if you don't think you need them for the pain, you could probably use the anti-inflammatory, right?"

Biting his lip he finally nodded, "yeah, I guess that might not be a bad idea."

No reason to be stubborn about it. Just because he hadn't needed a pill in four days didn't mean there was any problem taking one or two now as a sensible precaution. That way he could be sure he wouldn't mess up activities planned for later in the evening.

Emily smiled as she walked them over to the bench they'd been sitting on earlier.

"Okay, I'll go get you some water, you wait here."

He was about to tell her that he could dry swallow them but she'd already started walking away. Looking around the room he huffed as he saw the woman in the red dress was indeed on her way out. And she was leaving with a _much_ older man who had his hand on her ass. So apparently she too had a date. He rolled his eyes, nice.

A few seconds later Emily's bag started to vibrate next to him and then he heard her phone ringing. Pulling it out, he saw, 'Dad Cell,' flashing,

Crap.

He knew she'd been looking forward to her call from her father, he was in Amsterdam. But as Hotch looked across the room, she was nowhere to be seen. Well, she should be back in a minute, and he didn't want her to miss the call, even if it was going to be a little awkward talking to her father. So with a slight grimace he hit the middle button and answered hesitantly, "Mr. Prentiss?"

Emily's father was silent for a moment and then he asked suspiciously, "who is this?"

Hotch cleared his throat, "uh, Aaron Hotchner, Emily's boss. She just stepped away and I know she was waiting for your call so I thought I should grab it," he paused before adding the obvious, "she'll um, be right back."

God . . . he winced . . . he sounded like such a moron!

It's not like he was sleeping with the man's daughter! But he still had that nervous feeling like he was doing something that he shouldn't be doing. Though, if he had a daughter and some guy answered her phone he probably wouldn't approve. He'd assume that man was sleeping with her, and that would not make him happy.

And as he listened to the silence he was wondering just how unhappy Mr. Prentiss was with him at this moment.

Richard Prentiss was actually just quite surprised that Emily hadn't answered the phone. And after he got over his initial worry that something had happened he was now just amused at the slightly nervous tone he could hear in her boss' voice.

He snorted to himself . . . so much for the hard ass he'd heard so much about.

And as much as he would have loved to screw with him, he still was hoping to meet this man someday. Hopefully before he married his daughter. Because if there was one thing that Richard knew, a man like Aaron Hotchner didn't sound that nervous talking to a girl's father unless he was worried about making a bad impression. And you only needed to make a _good _impression if you were hoping to stick around for a while. And Richard knew that Emily would block the two of them meeting for another five years if he wasn't nice to her boss/boyfriend now.

Hotch was just about to make some lame ass apology, probably sticking his foot into his mouth, when fortunately her father came back on the line. And he sounded considerably warmer than Hotch would have expected.

"Agent Hotchner, finally we get to speak! I tried to meet you last month at the UN gala but Emily blocked that."

Against his better judgment Hotch chuckled, "did she?"

Emily hadn't mentioned that to him.

Richard cleared his throat, "she did. Now, given that this is my daughter's birthday can I assume that you are making sure she has a nice one?"

Knowing he only had a few minutes to pump him for information Richard was trying to make quick work of his assessment of their relationship. He'd get more out of this man in two minutes than he would talking to his daughter for an hour. That's because Emily would be prepared to play defense, Agent Hotchner was nervous and clearly caught off guard.

Richard was shamelessly taking advantage of that.

Feeling like he'd just wandered into the Twilight Zone, Hotch's brow wrinkled as he nodded slowly, "uh, yes, sir, I'm trying. I actually took her to New York," he winced, great now it _really_ sounded like he was sleeping with her! Further explanation was definitely in order, "my um, brother is opening a new restaurant and we're at the party now, big band theme, I thought she'd like that."

Then, feeling like he should add something he said, "and the pastry chef made her a birthday cake. It's a surprise, she doesn't know."

Richard's lip quirked up, "well, that does sound like the kind of party my daughter would enjoy," he paused, narrowing his eyebrows, "what kind of cake?"

If he had the cake specially made for her then this would be a good indicator of his feelings.

Huffing slightly Hotch switched the phone to his other ear, "it's chocolate with peanut butter filling and I asked him to decorate it with daisies."

There was silence for a moment and then Richard came back quietly, "Emily loves daisies."

Hotch smiled softly, "I know sir," as he saw Emily coming towards him, he cleared his throat, "actually here she comes now, and like I said the cake's a surprise."

Richard nodded, "right, well, it was nice talking to you Agent Hotchner," his voice hardened slightly, "you take good care of her. Keep her safe."

Nodding as Emily walked up, Hotch responded firmly, "yes sir, always," seeing Emily's questioning look he mouthed, 'it's your father,' before turning his attention back to the call, "well sir, it was nice speaking to you as well, here's Emily."

He handed the phone to Emily who answered with a big grin, "hi daddy!"

"Happy birthday pumpkin!"

Chuckling she handed Hotch his water, "thanks dad," she put the phone on her shoulder so she could get the pills out of her bag, eyeing Hotch while she spoke, "so were you nice to Hotch while I was away?" Seeing Hotch nod at the same moment her father said "of course," she laughed, "just checking."

Her father's eyes crinkled as he looked at the time, he had a meeting in twenty minutes.

"Well honey, I wish I could talk longer but I have to run, and besides I heard you're at a party. I hope you're having a good time."

Emily sat down on Hotch's knee, looking at him with a soft smile as she nodded, "I am having a good time," and figuring this was her father and not her mother she decided to throw him a bone and answer a question he didn't ask, "we're actually in New York. Hotch's brother is opening a new restaurant, the place is fabulous."

Richard opted not to mention that he already knew where they were, instead he just said, "well you sound like you're happy."

She leaned her head against Hotch's, "very happy," Hotch's hand tightened around her waist and she smiled, "I'm having a good day."

Her father smiled softly, "that's great honey. That's all I want," he swallowed, "all I want is for you to be happy."

He wanted to say more but he didn't want her to get defensive about her relationship, so he decided to leave things alone.

"Okay, well I have to go now but I'll be home before the end of the month. We'll have dinner," he added casually, "maybe you could bring a friend."

She smirked, "nice try dad," he laughed and she smiled, "I'll see you in a couple weeks. I love you. Be careful."

His eyes crinkled sadly, "right back at you pumpkin," and he hung up the phone, one word rolling in his head.

Daisies.

Things were getting serious. He stared at the ground for a moment before he shook his head and went over to get his gun off the nightstand.

Looking down at the phone buzzing in her hand Emily felt a little sad for a moment and then she clicked it off, brightening as she turned to Hotch, "did my father torture you?"

His eyes crinkled, "uh, no, actually he was very, uh, solicitous," he wrinkled his brow as something suddenly occurred to him, "does he think we're dating?"

Because as he thought about the questions her father had asked they were very much boyfriend questions, not boss questions. Like he hadn't asked how she was doing at work. That was a more common father question. Hotch was a little off balance at the time and hadn't quite picked up on that as quickly as he should have.

He rolled his eyes internally . . . CIA interrogation techniques.

Emily frowned, "I don't see why he would. But when I ran into him at the gala last month I mentioned I was there with you. And then tonight you just answered my phone, and we're at a party for your brother so . . . huh," her eyes crinkled, "I guess yeah he probably would. I haven't mentioned really that we're friends," she laughed, "well, don't worry. I'll set him straight when he gets home."

Hotch patted her stomach, "good, I don't know exactly what your father's job is at the CIA but I do know that I _don't _want him pissed off at me."

Chuckling she settled back against his chest, "I won't let him hurt you, I promise."

They sat there for awhile longer, Hotch's chin on Emily's shoulder as they watched the room. Making bets on fake boobs and hairpieces. After about ten minutes Hotch's brother caught his eye and Hotch nodded slightly and Sean disappeared.

Squeezing Emily slightly he whispered in her ear, "I have a surprise for you."

She leaned back, "what is it?"

He smiled, "we have to stand up." They stood and Emily looked up at Hotch quizzically, "what's happening?"

That's when the lights went down and Hotch turned Emily around, holding her hand as he directed her gaze. And as she looked across the room, the kitchen door opened and Sean came out.

Her eyes widened . . . right behind him someone was pushing an enormous cake.

And then everyone started singing happy birthday . . . to her! How did these people know her name?!

For a moment she stood there stunned. She couldn't believe they did this!

Both Sean and the cake stopped in front of her and Sean kissed her cheek as he whispered, "happy birthday Emily."

She smiled before looking past him . . . her eyes started to sting . . . the cake was beautiful. Four tiers of different sized rectangles, each one alternating in white and pink frosting with an orange ribbon running along the bottom of each.

And the best part . . . her eyes filled . . . the daisies. There were orange and pink daisies all over it.

Daisies were her favorite flower . . . and Sean wouldn't have known that.

She turned to look at Hotch with tears in her eyes as she mouthed, 'thank you,' and he smiled at her before whispering in her ear.

"It wouldn't be a real birthday without birthday cake would it?"

She pressed a kiss to his mouth and his eyes crinkled as he murmured against them, "they're almost done singing, you better get ready to make a wish."

Sniffling Emily turned back, looking at the tower of frosting and candles. She whispered back to Hotch, "it's huge," she squeezed his hand as everyone started to clap, "you have to help me."

There was no way she could do all of that on her own!

His eyes crinkled, it was pretty big. As soon as she'd agreed to come he'd explained to Sean that it was her birthday and he asked if the chef could make her a chocolate cake with daisies on it.

He didn't know it would be quite so enormous.

Hotch stepped behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist as he leaned over her shoulder, "okay, just like we take down a door, on the count of three."

She laughed and he started counting.

"1 . . . 2 . . . "

And they blew. It definitely took both of them to get all the candles out. As everyone started clapping again Emily was a little sad as the waiter immediately whisked the cake away to be cut up. She leaned her head back against Hotch's chest as she whispered, "it's so pretty."

Hotch reached over, tapping Sean on the shoulder before he whispered in his ear, "do you think we could get a picture before they cut it?"

Sean smiled as he looked at his brother and then down to his _not_ girlfriend, still wrapped up in front of him as she looked wistfully towards the kitchen door that was just closing.

His eyes crinkled, "sure." He yelled out for Felipe, and when the photographer came over he told him to run into the kitchen and get some good shots of the cake before it was in pieces.

Hotch saw the guy with the camera hurry towards the kitchen and he turned to give Sean a grateful smile, "thanks."

Emily's eyes crinkled as she leaned forward slightly and kissed him on the cheek, "yes, thank you so much Sean. The cake is absolutely beautiful," she shot a grin up to Hotch, "that's definitely my best one yet. That's why I wanted a picture," Hotch squeezed her and she gave Sean a soft smile, "this was a really good day," she put her hand over Hotch's arm as she gave Sean a sad smile, "and we have a lot of bad days, so thank you for having us."

Sean stared at both of them for a moment, seeing the sadness there, and then he realized it had been with them all along. Aaron never talked much about his work but Sean of course knew what he did. Sometimes he'd see him on the news and he'd understandably look tired and stressed. But for some reason Sean always thought that was a temporary condition. That when he went home, life was good again.

But Sean could see now that it wasn't temporary, it was just the way that he lived his life. Apparently it was the way both of them lived their lives. And in that moment Sean was suddenly infinitely grateful that his brother had this beautiful woman who seemed to bring him some happiness. He lit up when she was near him and he watched her when she wasn't. He'd never lit up like that around Haley. And Emily was a real sweetheart. At least three people had mentioned to him how nice his brother's girlfriend was. Sean hadn't bothered to correct their impression because it was obvious that she was indeed his girlfriend. Whether or not the two of them realized it yet or not, that was another story.

He patted his brother on the arm as he looked between Aaron and Emily with a small smile, "I'm really glad you guys came. And I'm glad you had a good time," his face brightened, "you'll definitely have to come back again once we're officially open."

Emily tipped her head back to see Hotch as she looked up at him hopefully, "can we?"

His eyebrows narrowed as he looked down at her, "perhaps."

She shot a big grin at Sean, "that means YES!" He started laughing, "yeah, I remember when I was a kid and asked if we could go to the movies that always meant yes too."

Emily laughed as she patted Hotch on the cheek, "see those eyebrows of yours are a dead giveaway. We need to get little trench coats for them so they can go around incognito."

Hotch scowled at her, "you keep mocking the eyebrows and that yes may turn to a no."

Her lips twitched, "unlikely, I've been mocking your eyebrows for years and I've yet to notice any derogatory treatment as a result. If anything, me stopping my mockery could lead to a catastrophic maladjustment in our karma."

Shaking his head in exasperation Hotch closed his eyes as he growled, "Prentiss you're killing me."

She rubbed his arm sympathetically, "I know."

Mouth quivering Sean looked between the two of them.

They really did make a good couple.

Then he tipped his head towards the dance floor, "brother you might want to take the birthday girl out for another spin. It's going to be a few minutes until the cake's back out."

Irritation forgotten Hotch looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, "I know I don't have to ask if you want to dance again." She smiled, "no you don't." Then she turned back to Sean, leaning forward slightly to whisper conspiratorially, "do you think you could please have them save me a piece with a daisy?"

He flashed her a dimple, "well given that it is _your_ birthday cake I think we could probably arrange that."

She gave him a brilliant smile, "thanks!" then she turned back to Hotch, "k mister, let's get moving."

Huffing, Hotch shook his head at Sean as he slipped his hand around Emily's waist, calling over his shoulder as they walked away, "we'll see you in a little bit."

The band had taken a break after they played 'happy birthday' so the DJ was now running old standards, and as Hotch pulled her to his chest Emily took note of what was playing and a grin blossomed.

"Ooh, I love this song."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he ran his hand down her back listening as Etta James started singing _At Last_. They danced through that one, and then Ray Charles singing _Georgia on My Mind_. As Sara Vaughn started up, Hotch tipped his head down to whisper in Emily's ear, "so did you have a good birthday?"

A soft smile came over her face as she nodded, her cheek brushing against his chest.

"I had a _fabulous_ birthday, thank you so much for everything," she patted his back as she chided gently, "but you did too much."

The trip, the hotel, the necklace, the party . . . her eyes stung . . . the little daisies. It was unbelievable.

Huffing he pulled her closer, "nonsense," he kissed the top of her head, "you deserved a good day and I just wanted to make sure you got one," he pressed his lips to her ear, "and after what I did last year," he cringed remembering he'd sent her to observe that autopsy, "I just wanted to make doubly sure that this year was something special."

It was actually really fortunate that she had agreed to come on the trip. Because as he thought about it afterwards he knew there was no way he would have left her alone on her birthday. So he would have had to cancel on Sean and that really would have been too bad because this had been a good time. If they were home he would have just taken her to dinner in town. Though then they probably would have had cake with Jack, and she would have liked that. Either way, the day would have been a thousand times better than last year.

She leaned back to look at him, knowing he still felt guilty about the autopsy. But they'd already discussed that, a LONG time ago, and as far as she was concerned that discussion was permanently closed. She shook her head.

"You forget that last year you gave me the lady bug night light, _that_ was something special," she touched his cheek, "that meant a lot to me. I still keep it in my ready bag."

His face softened as he tipped his head, "you do?"

She stared at him for a moment and then smiled as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, whispering, "I do, and it helps keep away the bad dreams. And that's a gift without a price tag."

Pulling her tightly against him he buried his face in her hair for a moment and then his eyes crinkled as he whispered back, "actually I think it cost $8.99."

Emily started to laugh against his jacket, "well think how much money you could have saved yourself this year if you'd just stuck in your old price range."

Hotch ran his hand down her bare arm, unconsciously calculating in his head how much he _had_ spent for her birthday . . . probably about $700.00 in total. His face softened as he looked down at her.

All money well spent.

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_A/N 2: I love Emily's dad! I might have said this before, but next to Rossi, he's my favorite secondary character to write. I kind of wish I hadn't pigeonholed myself in The Hours. Because in 'Girl canon' that's the first time Hotch actually meets him. But, there was nothing to say they hadn't chatted on the phone before. Given that Em is going to have her revelation in the next couple weeks, AND her dad is coming home in the next couple weeks, I might try to let them have a real conversation about her feelings. It's not like she has anyone else she can talk to. The team doesn't know, and her mother won't find out until The Hours, so beyond Hotch, I think her dad would really be the only confidante she'd have. And as I said, I like writing her dad, this would probably be the only other place I could work him in._

_You could see Emily's reaction to a female interloper was MUCH stronger this time than it was in the gala chapter. _

_If you read birthday festivities, you'll notice some mirroring in from this chapter to that one. And of course, if you haven't read 'Lady bug, Lady bug,' that's where you'll see Emily actually get her famous nightlight._

_Daisies were established in the summer chapters as Emily's favorite flower. And again, loving the Google images, I put in cakes. The one in the story is actually a combination of two I saw. Because there was one with daisies on it in pink and orange, but they also had little colored dots on the frosting and I didn't care for that. So I took the ribbon idea from another cake and did that instead. It still astounds me that I can write all these different worlds but can't 'imagine' objects without having a reference point! So strange._

_If you're curious about Emily's wish, it will be addressed in the next chapter :)_

_I actually have most of the next chapter done, back at the hotel, but you'll see it sets up activities for 'Monday' and I haven't written those yet. So though I will probably be posting tomorrow, I might not post again until later in the week. I got some stuff coming up which will curtail the writing. Though, I have 3 chapters stockpiled for Second Chances so I can still post one more on that story even if I can't post on this one._

_I do enjoy a little feedback :)_

_Next: "__**Fundamental Things**__"_


	104. Fundamental Things

**Author's Note**: The last of the birthday chapters. Back at the hotel.

This one kept meandering from topic to topic as they talked so I ended up setting up some future chapters that I TOTALLY hadn't planned on writing! Damn characters going off and making plans without checking with me first.

And I'm a little behind on my reviews/PMs but I am working through them so if I haven't gotten back to you yet, I will soon :)

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_Early October - Sunday_

**Fundamental Things**

Emily giggled as she watched Hotch fussing with the key card.

"You're drunk."

He scowled, "I'm not drunk. I only had four drinks. The card's bent," he stopped trying to open the door as he looked over at her giggling.

His lips twitched . . . God she was cute.

Shaking his head he pulled her against his chest and kissed the top of her head, "I think _you're_ the one that had a little too much to drink."

The occasional giggle fit was not uncommon when she had more than two drinks.

Emily giggled again with her nose pressed against his shirt, "just a teeny bit too much. Those martinis were really good."

And she'd had probably one more than she should have. They'd only had appetizers and cake, and that wasn't quite enough food to sop up four jumbo martinis.

Holding Emily to his chest with one hand, Hotch worked the key card with the other. The little green light popped on just as he felt her wrap her arms around his waist. His eyes crinkled as he rubbed his hand down her back, which was covered with _his_ jacket. She'd been wearing it since they left the restaurant, "the door's open."

Emily mumbled against his chest, "that's good because I'm kind of sleepy." Hotch reached down to pick up their bag and her shoes off the carpet and then guided her inside, locking the door behind them.

Pulling Hotch's jacket more firmly around her shoulders Emily shivered as she pouted at him, "I'm cold too."

After dropping her shoes on the floor and the bag on the bed, he ran his hands down her arms, "that's because it's cold outside and you aren't dressed for cold weather." He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her under his chin, "why don't you go put on your pajamas and I'll order you some tea."

Emily leaned back slightly, looking up with a little grin, "cocoa?"

His lips twitched, "as you wish."

He let go of her so she could go change and then he called out before she went into the bathroom, "Emily," she looked back at him and he gave her a nervous smile, "be careful with your gun."

Not that she was an idiot. Or even more than slightly buzzed right now. He just wanted to make sure she didn't decide to fuss with it for some reason.

Emily shook her head vehemently, "don't worry. I'm not going to touch it. I'm just going to take my holster off."

That was the downside of having to wear your weapon everywhere. For obvious reasons she really didn't like to handle her gun at all when she'd been drinking. Fortunately she didn't over imbibe very often. And even now, she certainly wasn't drunk. She was very _aware_ of her actions. And really the moment you stopped being aware, and stopped worrying about dying in the stupidest way possible . . . mishandling your own weapon . . . that was when you were in trouble.

Hotch's face softened slightly, "good." As she shut the bathroom door he reached up to slip off his own holster, placing it directly on the nightstand. He had no intention of touching his gun tonight either.

He called room service and put in a special order before changing into his t-shirt and sweats. He was just zipping his bag back up when Emily came out of the bathroom. She'd washed her face and taken off her earrings but she was still wearing her new pendant. His eyes crinkled when he saw she was also wearing his SWAT t-shirt. She'd adopted it the weekend she stayed with him. Before he could stop his tongue he blurted out, "do you own any lingerie?"

Emily blinked, "why did you want to borrow some?"

He chuckled as he threw his bag back onto the floor, "uh, no. I was just curious. I guess I didn't really mean lingerie _per se_. It's just that I've never seen you sleep in anything but t-shirts," he tipped his head, "well, and your flannel Hello Kitty pajamas."

Smirking, Emily tossed her own bag on the floor, "yes, I do indeed own girlier sleepwear. But it really wouldn't be appropriate for me to come out of the bathroom dressed in a teddy now would it."

She was actually just more comfortable in t-shirts. Besides, she'd be a pretty big tease if she walked around like that in front of him. As it was she'd forgotten to bring any pajama bottoms with her. Fortunately Hotch's t-shirt came down almost to her knees though. So he was getting the same amount of leg he'd been getting all night.

Hotch peered over at her bag, "you got a teddy in there?"

Her lips twitched as she threw his coat at him, "no, I don't have a teddy in there. But maybe if you're good the next time you come over I'll model one for you."

Hotch's eyes widened as he caught his jacket, "really?"

This best friend as a girl thing had some MAJOR perks to it!

She barked a laugh, "NO! Not really! You goof!" She huffed, "though if you're curious I suppose I can take out the drawer the next time you're over," her lip quirked up, "maybe you'll see something in your size."

Shaking his head Hotch tossed his jacket onto one bed before flopping back onto the other, "unlikely, I'm really hard to fit."

Chuckling Emily came over and looked down at him, he patted the bed and she sat down, looking at him nervously for a second, "you're _sure_ this won't hurt you?"

He shook his head, "not a smidge," he tugged her hand, "now get on up here."

Emily grinned as she climbed on top of him, moving up his body so she could nuzzle his neck. When Hotch wrapped his arms around her she sighed with contentment, "that's the ticket."

Hotch grinned as he ran his hand down her back, fixing her t-shirt where it was riding up, "so you had a good birthday."

She closed her eyes as she murmured back, "I had a _great_ birthday. Best one yet."

His lip quirked up as he felt her fisting his t-shirt in her hands . . . as though he was going somewhere. He rested his head against hers as he whispered, "tell me about your second best birthday."

Emily smiled against his throat, "my second best birthday. Um, I guess that would have to be when I was eleven, my mother was stationed in Russia, Dad was home for the whole week, and the Premiere arranged a private viewing of Swan Lake at the Bolshoi."

Hotch blinked, "the Bolshoi Ballet gave you a personal performance of Swan Lake for your birthday," he shook his head in astonishment, "how is that _not_ your best birthday?"

She rubbed his chest, "because this one was better," she smiled, "I didn't have a daisy cake in Moscow."

Hotch's face softened, "you liked your daisy cake, huh?"

That actually made him really happy. Given he had access to a professional pastry chef he figured he should ask for something particular beyond just 'birthday cake.' That's how he'd ended up picking the daisies. He knew they were her favorite and he thought she'd like something pretty.

Nodding, she brushed her cheek against his t-shirt, "I loved my daisy cake," her eyes went across to the other bed, "that was really sweet of Sean to give me the leftovers."

Squeezing her tightly Hotch chuckled, "Emily, it was _your_ birthday cake. Of course you can have the extra pieces. They made it for you."

Emily hadn't seen it, but Hotch knew that Sean actually had them take off the whole top tier and put it in the box whole. She thought it was just pieces but she actually had a whole cake. It was a decent size too.

She pouted, "I wish you had Jack tomorrow. We could have had cake with him."

This was a wonderful day but it would have been absolutely perfect if she'd seen Jack today too. Her lip quirked up, though she did get his proxy birthday kisses via Hotch.

His eyes crinkled, "well, actually because I had to cut my visitation short, I already arranged it with Haley that Jack would come over for dinner tomorrow. I was thinking you might like to join us for macaroni and cheese with cut up turkey dogs."

Using his chest to leverage herself up Emily grinned down at him, "so we _can_ have cake with Jack?"

Lips twitching Hotch reached up to brush her hair back, "yep, you can even blow out your candles again," his eyes crinkled, "maybe if you make your wish twice you'll get a better shot of it coming true."

Her face brightened, "you know I think you might be right about that! Because remember last year I did my wish twice, once by myself and once with you," she touched his cheek, "and that one came true."

He tipped his head, "did it? I remember you wouldn't tell me at the time what you wished for, you said it would ruin it," his eyes twinkled, "but if it's already come true I think the statute of limitations of birthday wish secrecy has expired."

Chuckling, she laid her head back down, "yeah, I guess I can tell you now," she was quiet for a minute, "I wished that things would get better. That I wouldn't be by myself anymore, that I would be happy," she kissed his cheek, "and now I have you, and you let me see Jack, and my life is good."

Eyes burning, Hotch rolled them onto their sides so he could see her face, then he whispered, "you wished for a happy life?"

Most people wished for things, presents, cars, trips, money . . . Emily just wanted to be happy. He was blaming it on the alcohol because he seriously wanted to cry right now.

She gave him a soft smile as she nodded, "yeah, and now I have one. So you see, birthday wishes do come true."

And she was counting on that because this year she wished for a family of her own. When they got home she was going to start researching in-vitro procedures and adoption policies. Hopefully she'd have a baby, or at least have one on the way, by next October.

Hotch ran his index finger down her cheek as he said softly, "well then we'll definitely do candles tomorrow and you'll make your wish again." He pulled her back on top of him as he rolled onto his back, "do you want to invite anyone else over?"

The team didn't know how much time they spent together, and they hadn't been advertising it so nobody would draw the wrong conclusions. But these were her friends. And nobody would think it was strange for him to have them over for cake for her birthday.

Emily wrinkled her brow, "um, I would but how about we have them over after. I guess Jack will have to be home by 7:30?" Hotch nodded and she continued, "okay, then why don't we ask the team if they want to come over at 8," she patted his arm, "is that okay?"

This was Hotch's house. She had never invited people over to someone else's house before.

He smiled, "very okay," his eyes snapped over to the alarm clock.

11:22

Though everyone was most likely up it was a bit late to call for a non-emergency. Text messages would be better. He stretched his arm out to get his phone off the other bed but he couldn't reach. So either he was going to have to get up . . . or . . . his brow wrinkled and then he rolled Emily beneath him.

Now he was at the edge of the bed and he was easily able to snatch his blackberry off the other bedspread.

Emily grinned up at him, "hi."

He winked back, "hi." He started to roll them again so she'd be on top but Emily put her hand out, "wait a minute," her eyes crinkled, "I'm warm."

A Hotch blanket. This was definitely something they should be selling in the stores.

His lips twitched, "you do know that a reversal of our positions could lead to some problematic developments?"

She could basically lie anywhere on him and it was fine. But in order for him not to crush her he had to shift his body a certain way. And that way meant things were lined up that they went to extra pains to make sure weren't lined up.

Her eyes crinkled, "we'll be fine for a minute," Hotch huffed, "okay, as long as you're aware there's a clock ticking." He dropped his phone next to him on the bed and laid his head down on her shoulder.

He wrinkled his nose, it was weird this way. A bit too . . . sexual. They were in bed and he was on top of her. He'd never been in this position before with a woman that he wasn't having sex with. There was no way he was going to get comfortable. And then she shifted underneath him, the proximity warning went off, and he shook his head as he rolled them over again, looking up with a smirk, "sorry, but that's not going to work."

Emily laughed, "okay, I understand." Both of them were smiling as they stared at each other for a moment and then Emily leaned down, pressing her lips to his, keeping them there for about a beat longer than she usually would. Pulling back, she brushed her fingers through his hair as she whispered, "thank you for all my presents."

His lips twitched, "that was a pretty good thank you."

Her mouth quivered, "well they were some pretty good presents."

"How good?" He waggled his eyebrows and she burst out laughing, "not THAT good!"

A dimple flashed and she reached over to touch it with her index finger, "I do love your dimples."

The other popped out in amusement as Hotch tried not to smile as she ran her fingers over his face. And suddenly he flashed on her doing that once before . . . they were drunk. He furrowed his brow for a moment trying to remember why they'd be drunk, and then he had it.

Smokey's.

The night he signed his divorce papers. God, they got wasted, but that was the divorce thing. All things considered though, it wasn't a bad time. They drank beer, played pool and scared the crap out of a couple of assholes.

That's a solid evening.

Reaching up, he grabbed her hands, "hey, when we get home do you want to go play pool at Smokey's again?"

Her face lit up, "I'd LOVE to do that!" She looked at him suspiciously, "wait, I really get to play pool, right? You're not planning a raid or anything?"

He chuckled, "no, I remember I had a pretty good time when we were there before so I thought you might like to go back." He tipped his head quizzically, "have _you_ been back?"

As he recalled, she used to play pool once or twice a month. But he couldn't remember the last time she said she was going out with her girlfriends to do that. It had been at least a couple months.

Emily shook her head, "no, I actually haven't been there since that night with you. I've played pool a couple times since but never at Smokey's." Her lip quirked up, "though remember that night you picked me up drunk at Donovan's?"

He rolled his eyes, "yes, that was a good night. Another fine drinking establishment in a dangerous part of town."

She wrinkled her nose, "not terribly dangerous, just a little sketchy after hours. But either way, thanks to you," she smirked, "big strong man, we got home safely."

That was admittedly not her finest hour. A couple months ago, probably late August, she and her friend Kim went to U Street to play pool. They ended up doing shots and Emily lost all of her cash on the last game. She had to call Hotch at like 1:30 in the morning to come pick her up. Amazingly, he didn't even yell at her. And he even dropped Kim off at her place in Bethesda. She was planning on taking the Metro but he said that wasn't happening.

He huffed and then raised his eyebrow, "you haven't mentioned Kim lately. Do you still see her?"

Hotch had liked her, Kim Scully, an Irish girl from Boston. A real hard ass, but she was funny as hell. She worked at ICE, she and Emily had met on a case when they were both stationed in Chicago.

Emily pouted a little, "no I haven't seen her. She's been on assignment. We still email occasionally though," she brightened again, "but we really can go to Smokey's when we get home?"

"Well," he tipped his head, "not _tomorrow_, but yes, sometime this month we'll go play pool."

She raised her hand in the air, "YAY pool!"

Hotch grinned, he knew she got that from Jack. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head, "yes, YAY pool."

A minute later they heard a knock at the door and he patted her back, "that's room service." Emily slid off to the side as Hotch pushed himself off the bed, grabbing his wallet as he walked to the door.

The guy wheeled the tray in and Hotch gave him thirty bucks in return.

Ooh . . . Emily got excited . . . that wasn't just cocoa! She bounced up, "what did you get!?"

She pulled off the silver tray cover and started laughing when she saw the white bag underneath, "you got me McDonald's!"

That was her favorite fast food.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he tossed the wallet back on the bed, "well, even with the special tip it was still cheaper to send the kid across the street than to order off the room service menu," he tipped his head, "apparently I'm not the first one to do this because they weren't at all surprised when I asked if I could pay someone to run out," he smirked, "though I'm pretty sure it's not official hotel policy."

Opening the bag Emily found her cocoa, two bottles of water, two cheeseburgers and two small fries. Popping a French fry into her mouth she grinned, "oh yeah, these are way better than anything the chef was going to whip up."

Eyes crinkling Hotch came over and grabbed a burger and one of the water bottles. He went back and settled on the bed again. Emily sat down on the bottom edge so she could use the tray as a table. She knew she'd drop something otherwise. Halfway through her burger she looked over at him with a little pout, "could you turn the heat up please?"

She knew Hotch liked it polar bear cold but she'd just looked down to see her nipples were popping out. So she was now quite sure that her sensation of freezing to death was no longer just psychosomatic. She'd been warmer lying on top of Hotch, warmest with him on top of her, but neither of those were really a permanent solution to the problem.

Wiping his fingers on his napkin he swallowed his bite as he nodded, "sure." He pushed himself up and went over to hit the heat, cringing slightly when he looked at the thermostat.

Oops.

Apparently he'd actually put the air conditioning on earlier. That would explain why he just noticed her nipples had made an appearance. He turned off the AC and put the heat up to 65 before looking over at her. She was shivering. And given they were only there overnight neither of them had much in the way of extra clothes with them, so he couldn't even give her anything to put on. He tipped his head, "you almost done?"

Chewing she looked up at him, "uh, huh," she popped her last fry in her mouth before wiping her hands, "what's up?"

His lip quirked up, "bedtime."

Horrified, she looked over at him, "no more cuddling? I only got like fifteen minutes!"

God! He was going to send her back to her own bed already! Then she had a bad thought and she looked back at him nervously, "wait, your chest doesn't hurt right?"

Shaking his head he crossed back over to her, "no I'm fine," he picked up his phone before pulling the blankets back on his bed, purposely ignoring the little pout he was getting. Then he climbed in and started writing a text message to the team, inviting them all over for cake tomorrow.

As he was typing he was watching out of the corner of his eye as Emily turned her puppy dog eyes on him, but still he didn't acknowledge her. Then she sighed dramatically, turning to move the cake off the other bed so she could get in.

Just as she went to pick up the box he said nonchalantly, "oh were you going to sleep over there? Because I was thinking you might be cold and you might want to sleep over here," he flipped the blankets back with a smirk, "with me."

Emily narrowed her eyebrows as she put her hands on her hips, "you were just being mean to me?"

He shook his head, "no, if I was being _mean_ to you then I'd make you sleep over there all cold and alone. You're the one that made improper inferences about our sleeping arrangements."

Frowning she looked back and forth between the two beds before stating the obvious, "but you got us TWO beds. Why wouldn't I assume you meant for me to sleep by myself?"

Raising his eyebrow he gave her a look, "have I _ever_ made you sleep by yourself if you were cold?" She tipped her head, "well, no." He rolled his eyes, "well then get over here and get under the covers. You stand there any longer you're going to take out my eye with one of those nipples."

Emily's lips twitched and then she burst out laughing as she climbed into the bed, "I wonder if you really could get a corneal scratch from a frozen nipple."

Shaking his head he went back to his text message, "I don't know but it certainly would be an awkward conversation with the HMO."

Giggling, she pulled the covers up before curling up at his side and tipping her head onto his shoulder. Peering over, she looked at the message he was typing, "don't forget that JJ can bring Will." He shot her a look and she shot him one back, "what? I'm just making sure that you were clear." She was quiet for a second, "and Garcia can bring Kevin."

Hotch winced, closing one eye as he looked over at her, "really?"

Her lips twitched as she saw his aversion to that idea.

"Why no Kevin?"

He sighed, "I just don't know if I want him in my home. He's kind of weird."

She smiled, "fair enough," she chewed her lip as she thought for a second, "and it's not the same as JJ and Will. I mean Garcia and Kevin aren't living together or having a kid so there's no implied invitation for both."

He nodded, "that was my thought/hope as well," then he wrinkled his nose as he looked back at her, "am I just being mean for no good reason?"

Settling back onto his shoulder again she shook her head, "no, not at all. It's your home. You shouldn't have people in your home that you don't want there."

Frowning, Hotch stared at her for a moment before he nodded, "okay, yeah," he gave her a little smile, "thanks."

Huffing, she rubbed his arm, "no problem."

Hotch's phone started beeping back almost immediately after he sent off the invitation. He picked it up, scrolling through the responses before he turned to Emily, "cake's a go. I've heard back from everybody but Rossi and JJ. And I think at this stage in her pregnancy JJ probably goes to bed around nine so I don't expect we'll hear from her until tomorrow."

Emily smiled softly, "yeah she said she's been really tired lately." Which reminded her, she looked up at Hotch, "I'm going to start looking into my baby options when we get home."

He put his phone down on the nightstand before turning back to her with a little smile, "that's good. Let me know if you want me to help out with anything."

She looked over hopefully, "um, do you want to come with me to the in-vitro place? I just want to get some materials but I feel a little weird going by myself."

Yeah, she might in actuality be a desperate forty year old spinster but there was no reason to LOOK like one. If Hotch went with her at least she wouldn't look quite so pathetic.

Scooting down on the pillow slightly Hotch put his arm around her as he nodded and yawned at the same time, "of course, just let me know when you want to go."

Her nose wrinkled slightly, "well, it would probably have to be during the day . . ."

And she left the rest of that hanging. It was one thing to ask for a little emotional support, something else to ask Hotch, the man with 952 vacation days stockpiled, if he could take the afternoon off to run out and sit through a 'how babies are made in a test tube' lecture with her.

His eyes snapped down to hers and he chewed on his lip for a moment.

"That's okay. Just give me some notice so I can make sure I have the time cleared."

She leaned over to kiss his cheek, "thanks."

He rubbed her shoulder, "no problem. I told you, whatever you need me to do."

Emily settled into his side, and he sighed as she slid her hand over his chest. It was going to be interesting if Emily got pregnant. His lips twitched as he thought about her legendary appetite working for two . . . she might need to take out a second mortgage just to support her French fry habit.

Though he was going to support her in whatever she decided, he personally thought she might be better off adopting. Adoptive parents didn't love their children any less, and if she went that route she would physically be in better shape to take care of an infant by herself. It would probably be a little easier, especially as a first time single mother, if she didn't have to deal with the hormonal fluctuations and just the physical exhaustion that came along with the pregnancy first.

Really, he was just concerned about her being alone. Yeah, he'd help her as much as he could, but they didn't live together so most of the work was still going to fall to her. She wasn't going to have a second parent to help her pick up the slack and he didn't want her to be overloaded.

Kids were hard work even with two parents in the house. But it would sap all the fun out of it for her if she was tired and stressed all the time.

Emily said sleepily against Hotch's shirt, "maybe by my next birthday I'll have a baby."

His expression softened as he tipped his head against hers and whispered back.

"I'll cross my fingers."

She murmured something unintelligible and he glanced over to see that her eyes were closed. She was talking in her sleep.

Hotch picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles as he whispered again.

"Happy Birthday Emily."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: So of the stuff that was mentioned in here, that I totally had no intention of writing. I THINK I'm going to go to the clinic with them, we'll definitely get back to Smokey's later in the month and I actually really would like to do another flashback chapter. Like Ladybug, but this one is of that night Hotch picked up her and her friend when they got drunk at the pool hall. And we will do cake with Jack because I have a clear image of his present to Emily, but I don't have a clear image of cake with the team. And that's going to be a major stumbling block if I wait to write it. Because TECHNICALLY I have the next three chapters in a row completely finished. I wrote them a couple months ago and they're totally polished and ready to go up. BUT, I have to write the unexpected cake chapters first. I might do the team segment from like JJ's point of view, a quick observational piece so I can write it freestyle rather than with dialogue. They usually come faster that way._

_And Kevin just doesn't seem like Hotch's kind of person so I don't think he'd really want to have him hanging out in his house. Especially because it is a private 'family' gathering. It's not like a cookout or something where lots of people are being invited. _

_Lastly, of course Emily's birthday wish does come true again. She does have her own family by next October. Of course I don't know yet if she'll have a baby on the way by then. & Such is still treading water in late August and I haven't been back to that in awhile. I DEFINITELY have no plans to pursue their baby, in any incarnation, while I'm working on the other two baby stories. That would be a bit much. But actually, the other two baby stories were what reminded me to pull the adoption thread forward in this chapter. Now that she's hit her birthday that would be the time to at least start doing research._

_Feedback is lovely kids :)  
_


	105. Jumping Jack Hotchner

**Author's Note**: I never did get a good idea for a cake with the team chapter. But I'll keep it rolling around in my head and do a flashback chapter from somebody's point of view a little later. It'll be a good opportunity to pull somebody else into the story.

This is short . . . but sickeningly sweet. Seriously, you'll need to brush your teeth when you're done reading.

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_Early October - Monday  
_

**Jumping Jack Hotchner**

Jack jumped up and down clapping.

"OPEN IT! OPEN IT! OPEN IT!"

Hotch grinned and Emily started laughing as she ran her fingers along the seams of the paper.

"Okay baby, I'm opening it!"

Emily eyed Hotch with amusement, "did you help him with the wrapping?"

The paper was rolled around at least three times and covered with about a half a roll of tape.

Chuckling, Hotch leaned back against the couch, "I only cut him off a piece to use, the rest of it was all him," he looked up at Jack still dancing around and he smiled, "you did a really good job buddy."

Jack giggled and Emily's eyes crinkled as she flipped the present over again, pulling off another layer of paper . . . and then her eyes filled, "oh."

She bit her lip . . . he drew her a picture.

The three of them playing in the park . . . and she and Jack were holding hands. It was so sweet she was seriously afraid she was going to start crying.

Blinking the tears away she put it down on the coffee table before she looked up with a sniff and put her arms out, "I love it hon! Come give me a kiss."

Jack ran over with a huge grin, jumping on top of her, "that's us in the park!"

Emily squeezed him, and the two of them fell back on the couch as she exclaimed, "I know! And it's the bestest picture I ever got in my whole life!" She began smothering him in kisses until he started giggling, and then he began to squeal, "daddy save me! Save me!"

Hotch had already been biting down on his lip watching the two of them, but then a dimple appeared.

They were so cute together.

And as much as he loved to watch them, one of them had called for assistance. So with his eyes twinkling, Hotch reached over and ran his fingers down Emily's side.

She yelped, loosening her grip on Jack and he wriggled away with a giggle.

Emily turned to Hotch with a grin, "traitor!"

Eyes still sparkling, he pulled her against his side, "hey, my boy called for backup. What was I supposed to do? You can't leave a man hanging."

Emily huffed, leaning her head on his chest as they watched Jack dumping his GI Joes out on the floor. Hotch squeezed her shoulder, "so you liked your artwork, huh?"

Her eyes were moist again as she looked up at him, "that's my first crayon drawing."

Hotch smiled as he looked down at the stick figures, "he made it as soon as he got here today. He said he had to give you a present to open," he tipped his head against hers, "you know crayon drawings are supposed to be displayed on the refrigerator."

She looked up at him incredulously, "are you kidding me?! This baby's getting it's own frame!" Reaching over, she picked it up, staring down at the hands joined together as she said softly, "it's going on the wall."

Rubbing her back, Hotch looked down at the construction paper drawing, "well that will make Jack very happy," his brow wrinkled, "though I guess you'll have to take a picture to show him because he doesn't go to your house."

Emily looked over excitedly, "well maybe you guys could come over for dinner next Saturday," she smiled, "we could have spaghetti like we did the weekend I stayed at your place."

For all the trials and tribulations they went through that weekend, mostly she had good memories.

Hotch's eyes crinkled, "sounds good to me," he tipped his chin towards Jack, "let's ask Rembrandt." He projected his voice slightly, "hey buddy, next weekend do you want to go play at Miss Emily's house and have spaghetti?"

Jack stopped playing, looking up with a huge grin as he threw his arms in the air.

"YAY! SKETTI AT MISS EMILY'S HOUSE!"

Lips twitching Hotch turned to her.

"I think that's a yes."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I warned you it was short. Reminded me of the good old days of The Hours when I could whip out like 3 chapters in 2 hrs. Of course they were all like 700 words, but hey, people were happy! Now I'm all into "character development" and "plot points." Tis a pity. Though if I did Girl in the quickie style I did Hours this bad boy would probably top out like 400 chapters. _

_I have the next three consecutively done but after tomorrow I'm probably going to alternate posting days because a) I have little time to write new things this week and b) I'd like to spend that precious time getting a draft or two done of some of the other ideas that came to me in the last chapter. We'll be moving into mid-October next and I only have 3 for that. And with the exception of a Halloween chapter and Emily's realization that she's in love with Hotch, I have nothing for late October. So unless we want a really skimpy October closeout, or a massive shutdown in production, I should probably get on that :)_

_If you're reading it, there's a new chapter of Mirror, Mirror up. And if you're not reading it, check it out :)_

_Next: "__**Nothing To See Here**__" -- This is 100% done so I will definitely put it up tomorrow. It's one of my personal favorites so hopefully you'll all enjoy it._


	106. Nothing To See Here

**Author's Note**: It doesn't matter how 'done' I think these are. The moment I look at them again I start fussing with them. Though maybe that shows some progression in my skills because I wrote this a couple months ago, finished it, and then I looked at it last night and thought it was kind of choppy. So I ended up unexpectedly adding like another thousand words to smooth out some of the rough edges.

This chapter was actually inspired by a conversation with a reviewer during The Hours. I will explain at the end.

*******************************************

_Mid October: Thursday_

**Nothing to See Here**

Hotch dropped his case notes on the bed when he saw Emily's name flashing on his cell phone.

His eyes crinkled as he answered, "hey."

She was supposed to come over in about a half hour.

"I need you."

Immediately tensing up he asked worriedly, "are you hurt?"

"No, I am not injured, or sick, and I am not fighting off a masked marauder. Nonetheless, I need you to come to my room, RIGHT NOW!"

Relieved that she wasn't in danger of any imminent harm, Hotch still knew better than to argue.

"On my way."

Figuring it was better not to stop and put on his shoes; he dropped his phone on top of his notes and headed straight from his hotel room over to hers. He didn't even get a chance to knock before the door whipped open.

His eyes were automatically drawn down as they caught sight of . . . was that . . . it was.

Nipple.

Staring down at Emily's half open robe Hotch smirked, "really Prentiss, I'm flattered but we have an early day tomorrow."

Emily, following his gaze, realized her belt had slipped. She rolled her eyes at him she pulled up the loose flap with one hand and yanked Hotch in by the wrist with the other.

"Just get in here!"

She looked past him to see Dave and Morgan both gaping at her exposed chest. Though fortunately they were getting the PG-13 version of the show Hotch just got. Emily scowled at them, "nothing to see here guys!" and slammed the door in their faces.

Rossi turned to Morgan, "did you see that?"

Wow . . . Dave nodded appreciatively to himself . . . breasts. That was an unexpected treat after a particularly crappy day.

Derek nodded his own appreciation for the quick flash, "I did, and I don't know what the hell he's doing in there, but I will say, Hotch is one lucky S.O.B."

They started towards the elevator and Dave chuckled, "you do know there's nothing going on between them, right?"

At least not yet. Still no longing glances so Dave knew all was status quo. Emily's naked breasts notwithstanding. That was definitely NOT status quo.

Nodding slowly Derek hit the call button, "I do. But I also know that a naked Emily wouldn't yank me into her hotel room at any time of day, under _any_ circumstances. So I say again, Hotch is one lucky S.O.B."

Rossi just shook his head in amusement as they got on the elevator and the doors slipped shut.

Hotch meanwhile was in fact considering himself one lucky S.O.B. as he turned to face Emily and her still partially exposed, very shapely, girl parts. His eyebrow rose.

"So what's up?"

Then he gestured to her still half undone robe as he added seriously, "not that I don't appreciate coming over just to get a better look at your breasts."

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Emily shot him a glare, "you done?"

Squinting, Hotch tilted his head to the side, "well, given that the fingers of your left hand are starting to curl into a fist . . ." he nodded, "yeah I think that's enough for now."

She narrowed her eyes, "good." Then she turned around to open her robe and tie it tightly again, knotting it twice. And with the wardrobe malfunction now addressed, Emily moved on to more pressing matters.

The reason she was half undressed to begin with.

Turning back around, she grimaced slightly, "I need you to kill something."

Teasing forgotten, Hotch's expression softened as he nodded, "okay."

Given how disheveled she was he had already deduced that something had scared her.

She gave him a nervous smile as she ushered him over to the bathroom door, "thanks."

It wasn't in her nature to have to ask a man to help her. But this was just too . . . upsetting . . . to handle by herself.

Hotch put his hand on the doorjamb as he looked around the steamy bathroom.

Her clothes were on the floor and the hot water was running in the shower. Okay, so clearly something in here had freaked her out right before she called him. He looked down at her.

"What am I killing? Where is it?"

Christ, please don't let it be a mouse. He hated killing mice. They had faces and they looked at you. And then if they didn't die right away they squealed in pain. Yeah . . . he really hoped it wasn't a mouse.

Emily wrinkled her nose as she made a panicked flapping with her hand, "it's in the shower!"

Hotch looked at all the steam and then back down at her in bewilderment, "why didn't you at least turn off the water?"

Horrified at the suggestion, Emily gaped at him, "I was naked! What if it had jumped on me?" She shivered, "uck!"

Just the thought of it was freaking her out again!

He tipped his head, "fair enough."

That was true, nobody went into battle without clothes.

Leaving her in the doorway he went over to pull back the shower curtain, turning off the water before he started scanning the tile.

Now what was the . . . and then he spotted it.

His eyes widened as he took in the full dimensions before he exclaimed, "good GOD Emily!"

From her safe area by the door she yelled back, "I KNOW! Now how would you like to discover that thing when you're standing there naked?!"

He turned to look at her with a mixture of horror and confusion, "is it a _spider_!?"

Face contorting in disgust she nodded, "I think yes, but it's like on freaking steroids! If it was a regular spider I would have killed it myself. But this thing," she shook her head sadly, "this is not a 'tissue squish.' There's going to be an actual corpse removal here."

Nodding his head in agreement Hotch looked back into the corner of the tub. The little bastard was probably half the size of his palm.

Keeping one eye on the arachnid Hotch said over his shoulder, "go get one of your boots."

Nodding vehemently she disappeared, returning a moment later with her combat boot. She handed it to him and then put one hand on his back, keeping her body tucked behind his in case the horrible creature decided to jump out and attack.

A second later she whispered, "don't miss."

Hotch was just about to whack it and turned to give her a look. With a sheepish, "sorry," she fisted her hand in his shirt just as he brought her doc marten down hard on the Andre the Giant of spiders.

It had started to make a break for it when it sensed that an executioner had arrived. When the boot connected there was an audible crunch that made both of them grimace. Emily whispered in Hotch's ear.

"Is it dead?"

He turned to look at her, "even if it's not Emily, I'm pretty sure it doesn't understand human vocalizations. You don't have to keep your voice down."

She smacked his arm and Hotch's lips twitched before he turned back to pull the shoe off the sticky mess in the tub. A string of guts connected it, and Hotch had to shake it off before he took her boot out completely.

Flapping her hand again Emily's face twisted up, "EWWWW!"

Hotch's nose wrinkled. He really did have to agree with her assessment on this one. It was pretty disgusting. And they worked in a field with some pretty disgusting things.

But at least it wasn't a mouse.

He had no moral quandaries about killing spiders . . . his nose twitched again . . . disgusting though this one may have been.

Emily stared at the mess for a moment before she went and got the box of tissues and a latex glove out of her bag.

After Hotch had gloved up, he bunched up a half dozen Kleenex and scooped the deceased out of the tub. Then he dumped it, and the glove, into the trash. He looked up to see Emily was biting her lip as she looked down at the basket.

His eyes softened, "I'm going to go dump this in the barrel in the ice room. You get your stuff and go over to my room," he dug out his key card and handed it to her, "take your shower and I'll call housekeeping to come clean up your bathtub."

Emily just looked at him for a moment . . . he was so good to her. Then she gave him a soft smile, "thanks."

Hotch didn't say anything in response. He just gave her a dimple and squeezed her shoulder as he left the bathroom with her trash.

After Hotch left, Emily quickly gathered her toiletries, her pajamas, and most importantly, her underwear, and headed over to Hotch's room. He was just coming back down the hall as she started fiddling with the key card. Hotch offered to do it but she waved him off.

It was always a point of pride with her.

Though she was now dropping things on the floor as her single minded focus was only on the little green and red lights. Hotch leaned down to pick up her t-shirt and her bra, patiently leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed . . . she'd get it when she got it.

This was of course just when Dave and Derek came back from their trip to the deli down the street. They looked between a still robed Emily letting herself into Hotch's room, and Hotch himself standing there in his suit pants, dress shirt and stocking feet, dangling Emily's bra from his fingertips.

Shaking his head Hotch shot a warning glare at both of them, focusing on Derek in particular.

"One word Morgan and you're partnered _exclusively_ with Reid for the duration of this case. And you know he's on a Mayan artifact kick right now. I'm sure that will lead to some very scintillating discussions in the conference room while you two work victimology . . . alone."

Morgan had been just about to make a smart remark and wisely decided to to keep it to himself. Instead he smiled politely, "have a good night guys," and followed quickly after a bemused Rossi as they entered Dave's room to consume their late dinner.

At that moment Emily uttered a triumphant, "uh, huh!" and stumbled through Hotch's open doorway.

Huffing as he followed after her, Hotch tossed her bra and t-shirt on the bed, "I swear to God if I didn't know what a klutz you were I'd assume you were a raging alcoholic."

Emily just snorted as she went straight into the bathroom. He was completely correct, she had no grace, so there was no point in even pretending to argue the point.

After Emily went into the shower, Hotch called housekeeping for her bathroom, asking if they could address the tub and her sticky boot as well. After that was done he ordered them dinner from room service. He was about to settle back with his notes when he realized that he still had her bra and t-shirt out with him.

Those were articles of clothing that she would probably be needing in a few minutes.

He knocked on the bathroom door, and still hearing the water running, he entered with a yell, "it's just me," and went over to put her garments with the other ones sitting on the sink.

Emily poked her head around the shower curtain.

"What's up?"

He shook his head, "nothing, you forgot your t-shirt," he jerked his chin up, "and you might want to wipe your face because," they both winced as suds ran into her eye and Hotch finished his thought, "your shampoo is about to run into your eye."

Squinting, Emily reached up to wipe the back of her hand across her brow, "thanks."

"No problem," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I'm going to step back out now while you still have vision in your other eye."

Nodding sagely, Emily pulled her head back, "that's probably for the best."

Hotch left with a shake of his head and went out to read over the files again. He looked up when Emily came out of the bathroom in a puff of steam and something . . . he sniffed . . . pretty. His brow wrinkled, "what's that one?"

Emily smiled as she combed her hair, Hotch kept a running list of her bath products.

"Sweet Pea."

He nodded seriously as he turned back to his file, "I like it." A second later he looked back up again as he noticed Emily was standing in the middle of the room chewing her lip.

"What's the matter?"

Frowning she looked over at him, "I just realized I forgot my hair dryer. And that means my hair is going to get my shirt all damp," she scrunched up her face, "I hate that."

Her shirt got all clammy and stuck to her neck. Yuck.

Hotch tilted his head, staring at her for a moment before he put down his notes. Then he pushed himself off the bed and went over to the armchair in the corner of the room. He waved her over, "come sit down on the floor. I'll dry your hair like I do Jack's."

Emily looked at him for a second and then shrugged before going over to sit crossed legged in front of him. Hotch took the towel off of her shoulders and started briskly rubbing her hair dry. Three minutes later she reached up, feeling the ends were completely dry and the scalp was barely damp.

"WOW!" She turned to grin at him over her shoulder, "you're like a machine!"

He gave her a slightly melancholy smile in return, "yeah I always missed the first part of bath time but I did sometimes get home in time to bat clean up."

Now he got to do one bath a week by himself . . . it wasn't enough.

Looking up at him sympathetically, Emily rubbed his knee, "it didn't mean you were a bad father Hotch. My dad traveled constantly, much more than you do. And I don't love him any less for not being around as much as my mom," she squeezed his fingers, "don't torture yourself about this stuff. Jack loves you and that's all that matters."

This was just one more piece of baggage he carried around with him. Guilt about failing Jack. Being a bad father. It was ridiculous. He was a great dad, and Jack adored him.

Squeezing Emily's fingers in thanks he gave her a soft smile . . . she was always trying to make him feel better.

But he hadn't meant to bring down the room. Those old memories, his past failures, kind of snuck on him occasionally. He was working on having a good relationship with his son, and he knew things were better now. But he appreciated her concern, and he wanted to throw off the melancholy that was now surrounding them. Then he brightened as he suddenly thought of something that would amuse her.

His eyes crinkled as he took the comb out of her hand, "I can do braids."

Emily started laughing as Hotch began to smooth and then section out her hair.

"How do you know how to do braids?" She snorted, "do you secretly go by 'Hotchcita' on the weekends?"

Now she really wished she'd been able to make up his face while they were in New York. Unfortunately he was a light sleeper and he'd caught her standing over him with a mascara wand at five in the morning. He got up with a scowl, locked all of her makeup in the hotel safe, and then dragged her back to bed. But she really could have used the concrete visual to go along with what was in her imagination right now.

Hotch glared at the back of her head, thinking of her activities in New York, "no _Emily_, I am not a weekend cross dresser. And for the last time, you're not going to make me into one."

She had mentioned repeatedly that his lashes were really "pretty" and she wanted to see if she could make them any longer with a coat of mascara. He was almost tempted to let her do it just so she'd drop the whole issue.

He put his palm on the top of her head, "quit squirming or it'll be crooked."

As she settled down with a chuckle he explained about the origin of his hairdressing skills.

"When I was in college I was in drama very briefly," he huffed slightly thinking back, "I was 'wooing' Haley in the Pirates of Penzance and I had to do a stint working in hair and makeup."

God, he couldn't believe he'd actually done that. Done something completely ridiculous just to get a girl. He shook his head . . . love made you do stupid things.

Clapping her hands Emily exclaimed, "oh my God! You do makeup too!"

This was awesome!

Hotch responded drolly, "yes, if you'd like for me to apply three pounds of pancake, and a half a stick of rouge to your face, then I'm your guy."

Her enthusiasm fading, Emily furrowed her brow, "I don't really think that would be a good look for me."

Chuckling, Hotch finished off the last bits, "perhaps not." Then he patted her shoulder, "hold still for a minute." He climbed over her and grabbed two elastics from the paperwork on the bed. After pulling her off the carpet, he fastened the tips of her braids, setting them in place.

Emily ran her fingers down the ends as she headed over to the bathroom to look in the mirror. She came back out with a huge grin on her face.

"You did a really good job!"

He actually did a way better job than she could have done. She sucked at braiding. When she was little her dolls just had ponytails. She couldn't quite manage anything more intricate than that.

Hotch blushed slightly before he shot her a glare, "don't tell anyone. Ever."

God . . . he didn't know why he did these things for her. So many of them could easily come around and bite him on the ass.

Emily nodded contritely as she crossed her heart, zipped her lips AND threw away the key. When he shook his head in exasperation she laughed and came over, pulling him down so she could wrap her arms around his neck, whispering, "I promise I won't tell anyone."

He lifted her slightly off the ground, squeezing as he whispered back, "you better not, or next time it's gonna be a haircut."

She started to chuckle, pressing her lips to his ear, "you wouldn't chop off my hair. You like it long."

It was obvious he liked it long . . . her eyes crinkled . . . he was always playing with it.

Eyes twinkling Hotch pulled back to look at her, "yeah I do kind of like it long. And as beautiful as you are I'm not sure I'm ready to see you in a buzz cut."

Lips twitching Emily stared at up him. As often as he'd done it, it always took her by surprise when he told her she was beautiful. Maybe because he didn't just say it when she was dressed up. It would come out at the oddest times. Like now, with her in her faded pajamas and no makeup.

Staring at her for a moment, Hotch felt like he should say something else . . . but the thought slipped away. Then he shook his head and gave her a little smile, "I'll be right back."

Turning away, he went into the bathroom to take out his contacts and change into his t-shirt and sweats. When he came back out Emily was tipping the bellhop . . . with his wallet.

He looked at her, down at his wallet, and then back at her again.

Her eyes widened, "what? I left my wallet in my other pajamas," she bumped the door shut with her hip, "it was two bucks. I owe you a cup of coffee."

After staring at her for a second he went over to take his glasses out of his bag.

"Don't worry about it. I'll survive without the two dollars."

Hotch didn't actually give a damn about the money. And he didn't care at all that she was in his wallet. She was welcome to go through whatever she wanted. No, his reaction stemmed from the fear that she'd find the picture that he had in there.

The one of her and Jack feeding the ducks.

They each had the larger one in their homes, but he was just worried that she might think it was a little odd he was carrying around the small one in his wallet. But it cheered him up when he was having a crappy day so he didn't want to take it out.

He watched her looking over the food he'd ordered. It was obvious from her demeanor though that she hadn't seen it.

Shaking his head slightly he went over to get something to eat.

They discussed the case as they ate their sandwiches. Emily had a eureka moment halfway through dinner that immediately put Hotch on his cell to Garcia to have her start doing a search for used car lots in the tri-state area. Penelope was already home but was still able to start a remote access search while she was talking to him.

She promised she'd have the results for them by morning.

Actually what she said was, "we'll have that groovy info on the flip side big daddy," but Hotch had learned to read between the lines.

After he hung up he checked his watch. It was after midnight, but, still a relatively early day for them on the road. He did decide they'd done enough work for today though.

Their brains would be fried if they stared at the details any longer.

Without a word he started closing up the files and gathering up his notes. Emily picked up quickly that they were done working and began to follow suit.

She had been sitting on the floor leaning back against the bed, but once they'd stacked everything on the nightstand, she climbed up on the mattress and lay down next to Hotch. With a weary sigh she put her head on his chest and he put on the TV. His eyes flicked down to her.

"News?"

Emily shook her head, brushing her cheek on his shirt, "no, I've had enough death and destruction for one day."

Hotch started flipping until Emily patted his chest.

"Ooh, stop. I love this one."

He stopped . . . that was good enough for him.

After dropping the remote, he turned off the lamp and fixed his pillow. Then he put his arm around her shoulder and they settled in to watch the cornfield episode of The Twilight Zone.

/////////

Hotch woke up a few hours later with a crick in his neck from leaning against the headboard. He blinked for a moment wondering what had woken him and then he realized Emily was muttering in her sleep.

"Get them off of me. Hotch, get them off of me."

Rubbing her shoulder he commanded softly, "Emily, wake up."

It wasn't the first time he'd been there when she'd had a nightmare. Fortunately now she usually responded pretty quickly to the sound of his voice.

Her eyes popped open and she gave him a drowsy look from her position half on his chest.

He took his glasses off, rubbing his forehead as he asked, "what was on you?"

With a yawn she scowled, "stupid spiders," she rolled onto her back, her hand flopping onto her chest, "and I'm not even afraid of spiders but they were all as big as that mother in the bathtub."

Hotch put his glasses on the nightstand before he smiled sleepily down at her, "do you want me to walk you back to your room?"

They kept ridiculous hours when they were on the road so it wasn't uncommon for any of them to fall asleep working in someone else's room. The only difference being that Hotch and Emily didn't generally now go back to their own rooms when they woke up. Dave had once caught Hotch slipping out of her room early in the morning. But Dave hadn't done anything but throw him a weary wave so Hotch wasn't too worried about a bad impression there.

It was just Dave, if he was going to bust his balls he would have done it then.

Closing her eyes again, Emily rolled back on top of him as she murmured, "nope, your bed is nice and warm, and mine is going to be all cold."

Like she was going to choose to go back to her own bed when she could sleep with him? She felt herself drifting off again . . . that's just ridiculous.

His eyebrow went up, "okay, it's not actually the bed that's nice and warm, that's me," rolling his neck, he pushed himself up slightly, "and I'm a little cold myself so I think at the very least blankets would be a good idea."

After rolling her back to the mattress, he stood, pulling her up off the bed with him. All the while he was grimacing as he listened to Emily whine, "oh my God Aaron, you're _killing_ me!"

It wasn't worth it to even say anything back. She was half asleep, cranky from her nightmare, and clearly beyond rational conversation.

Shaking his head, he groaned as he pulled back the blankets and gently pushed her back onto the bed. He climbed in beside her and with a yawn started to fix the covers. But before he'd even finished pulling them up, she had wrapped herself around him. Her hand was on his stomach clutching his t-shirt tightly in her fist. He could see she had already fallen back to sleep.

His irritation melted away and his expression softened as he looked down at her. How could he stay mad at her? He stared for a moment before he gently ran his hand down her braid whispering.

"What am I going to do with you Emily Rose?"

*******************************************

_A/N 2: So it will be fairly obvious for the rest of the month that their feelings are 'bubbling up.' Though Em will come to the realization before Hotch, I think I'll have them both be the last week of October. Em's is written but I have to do Hotch's. _

_Twilight Zone, the cornfield episode is not my personal favorite, (I like "Eye of the Beholder" - the one with the girl that wakes up covered in bandages) but I had to pick the one I did because it hearkened back to something way, way back in the beginning of Girl. Chapter 7, "Girl Hates Boy's Guts" where they have the blow up about the Congresswoman and Emily is cursing Hotch in her head and wishes him into the cornfield. _

_If you'll recall, Hotch wooing Haley via Pirates of Penzance is canon. I made out the hair and makeup stint but it wasn't a terribly big stretch. Personally, I find it easier to believe Hotch would choose to work back stage if at all possible rather than engaging in any sort of dreaded singing and dancing in front of strangers. _

_So the inspiration for a spider story. In The Hours, Emily makes reference in one of the chapters as Hotch being 'killer of spiders' and dancerindisguise posed the question in a review as to whether somebody like Emily would be afraid of spiders. Then she said she thought that might be kind of interesting to see. I concurred. But given I already set Emily's phobia as snakes I decided that she'd only need Hotch to kill a giant mutant spider. Though Arc tells me that as big as this one is here, it's nothing compared to the ones where she lives. Which is really quite horrible. And I'm not afraid of spiders either but where I grew up, in the city, most spiders are about the size of a nickel. And they don't get bigger than a daddy long legs. Anything bigger than that is a mutant. My sister lived in North Carolina for awhile when I was teenager and I'd spend the summers with her. God awful sounds emanated from the back yard at night! I referred to it as Jurassic Park. They were just these freakishly huge insects making all kinds of disturbing noises. Bleh. _

_I might insert something new here before I put up the next chapter I was planning. So there might be a little lag on Girl before I post again. The next story that will have a new chapter will probably be Second Chances. _


	107. It's a Girl Thing

**Author's Note**: This is the first of a two parter. It takes place the day after the spider killer 'episode.'

And FYI: I'm moving this week. And I'm only telling you this so that you'll know that real life will be majorly interrupting fake life. I have a couple things somewhat done in different stories and if I need a break from the horrors of packing and cleaning maybe I'll get them prettied up. I'll have to kill myself if I do nothing but wrap dishes and sort out three years worth of bills, tax returns and legal documents I've been "filing" in a stack jammed between the computer tower and the computer monitor so I'm sure I'll get 1 or 2 chapters up. But in general for the next week or so, my postings are going to be somewhat sporadic and occasionally nonexistent. And that also means that I'll be way late in my responses to reviews and PMs (I'm still backed up on PMs) but that doesn't mean I'm not appreciative of the feedback and I will eventually get back to everyone :)

The sad thing about my move, I'm losing my entire DVR full of H/P goodness CM episodes! And I'm going to have to wait until September to get the dvds.

Side note, In case you didn't catch it, one of the best H/P subtext moments last season was actually in Normal. A good ep on it's own but towards the beginning H/P go to the hospital to interview the woman about the accident. And afterwards he comes out and says something sweet to the woman's teenage son and Emily gives him this look. It's really quick but . . . totally in love! Seriously. They do some more of those next season and maybe it'll keep the muse alive.

* * *

_Mid October: Friday_

**It's A Girl Thing**

"What's the matter?"

Wincing, Emily looked over at a worried Hotch in the driver's seat. And then she lied through her teeth.

"Nothing."

Hotch was staring at Emily. This was their second day in Chattanooga investigating a series of attacks on male escorts. They'd just wrapped their interviews and were now stopped at a light on their way back to the station. Emily had been acting a little strangely all day, but now he was starting to get concerned. Especially given that she'd just flat out lied to him.

"Emily, you've been shifting in your seat for the last five minutes and I can clearly see that you're in pain. Now please tell me what's wrong."

It wasn't like her to be so evasive.

Emily shook her head as she fidgeted again, "nothing really it's just a uh," she gave him a slight eye roll, "female problem."

Hotch bit his lip, "well, do we need to stop?"

Regardless of the type of problem she did not look well.

Shaking her head, Emily shifted again as she twisted her mouth, "no, it's okay."

She could see he was concerned. And she knew a more complete answer might make him stop looking at her like he was about to put on lights and sirens and drive to the nearest ER. But telling him what was wrong would be a bit more of a personal conversation than she'd generally have with a male friend.

Even Hotch. The man who was the keeper of some of her most embarrassing secrets.

Why is it women have no problem asking a strange woman they just met in a public bathroom if they have a tampon, but here she is with a man she would literally die for, and visa versa, and the slightest girly related thing comes up and she shuts down? It's so stupid. And it probably all goes back to when she was eleven and her mother left a copy of _Are There God It's Me Margaret_ on her bed beside a box of sanitary napkins. That was their big 'talk.' And pretty much set the tone for her level of comfort in discussing female issues for the next thirty years of her life.

She snuck another glance over in his direction . . . and he's still staring.

Oh geez . . . she rolled her eyes . . . what the hell. They just spent the last hour interviewing a rape victim. As personal issues went, hers was pretty tame in comparison. She sighed.

"I have a cyst on my ovary. It's nothing serious, it's just flaring up today and sitting still is very uncomfortable right now."

The car behind them honked and they looked up to see the light had turned green. Hotch took his foot off the brake as he nodded knowingly.

"Haley used to get them sometimes," he paused and then huffed, "and she probably wouldn't appreciate me telling you her personal business."

What was the statute of limitations of marital privacy? He supposed there probably shouldn't be one, but the longer he was divorced, the more likely he was to forget to keep his mouth shut. Though fortunately Emily was the only person he talked to, so Emily was the only one he blabbed to.

Emily's lips twitched.

"Uh no, she probably wouldn't."

He gave an 'oh well' shrug before asking, "there's nothing you can do?"

She shrugged, "Motrin might help a little but I don't have any with me," she was quiet for a second and then sighed, "I used to get them all the time but then I switched from a diaphragm to the pill and that pretty much cleared them up so this is a bit of an aberration. But when we went to New York I forgot to bring my pills with me and then my period got screwed up and now this stupid cyst is driving me nuts," she paused, "uh, did I really just say all that out loud or am I in the midst of some horrible dream right now?"

Oh God! She had totally forgotten she was talking to Hotch and not JJ. Her face was burning as she looked over to him.

Hotch's mouth started twitching as he shook his head in amusement, "ah, no. We're awake."

Cringing, Emily dropped her head into her hands.

"GOD! Talk about too much sharing!"

If her mother was here right now she'd be mortified by proxy!

Seeing how upset she was, Hotch immediately sobered as he looked over sympathetically.

"It's really okay Emily. I lived with a woman for two decades. She had a baby. There's nothing you can say I haven't heard bef . . ."

Emily cut in with a whiney, "yeah, but Hotch, that was still WAY too much!"

Hotch could see she was ready to go, as she'd say, "full tilt freak out" on this issue so he hit the directional and pulled over to the side of the road. After putting the car in park he turned to give her his complete attention.

This conversation was probably long overdue anyway.

"Emily, I'm going to tell you some things right now and I just want you to listen," he took a breath, "I know when you have your period. I know when you have PMS even though you don't let it affect your mood. I also know that you secretly hate to be partnered up with Reid when you _do_ have PMS because, as fond as you are of him for the rest of the month, on those few days his constant recitation of facts and figures makes you want to throw him out the window," he gave her a little smile, "but he doesn't know that because you're still nice to him the whole time."

Seeing the look of surprise on her face, he decided to just get it all out at once. So after taking another breath, he kept on going.

"You don't crave chocolate, you crave Mexican food. And that's why when we all went out two weeks ago I said we were going to Carlita's even though Morgan wanted pizza," he softened his tone, "and that's also the one week when you most hate to be working on cases with children because you're afraid you'll get emotional and the men will think less of you if you do."

As he could see Emily now staring at him with her eyes as big as saucers, he sighed.

"I never had any intention of telling you any of this. But we spend so much time together now it was impossible _not_ to absorb all of these things by osmosis. And I only told you today because I don't want you to be uncomfortable about accidentally discussing your birth control, when really," he smiled softly, "you don't have that many personal secrets left from me anyway."

Astonished, Emily shook her head.

"Wow . . . that's . . . wow," her eyes dropped to the floor before she looked back up at him, "you even knew about the kids thing?"

He nodded, "yeah, I started picking up on it about a year ago and I've noticed a pattern since," he sighed, "I wasn't profiling you I just . . ."

Emily cut him off with a look of sympathy.

"Yeah I know, you just can't help it. It's like me knowing that Reid can't digest corn muffins or Morgan had that rash last month." She shuddered as she thought back on that last one. Then she leaned back and gave Hotch an ironic look, "well, I certainly feel less weird about what I said."

Hotch nodded firmly, "good, that was my hope."

He was actually incredibly relieved. That could have completely backfired and made her much more uncomfortable. But he was grateful the opportunity had come up to get that off his chest. Being a profiler is an odd thing, you know everybody's secrets. But when those secrets belong to somebody that you're close to, you start to feel guilty. Like you're spying on them even though you're not.

This way was better. This way they were back to even footing.

He pulled back into traffic before sparing her a glance, "I'll drop you at the hotel."

Seeing Emily was about to protest he interjected, "uh, uh, it's late, I would have gotten a call if anybody else had a breakthrough so we're definitely done for today. And the hotel's only six more blocks. I'm just going to go back to the precinct to get our files and I don't need your help for that," he flapped his hand at her, "go lay down or walk around or whatever."

Eyes crinkling she turned to him, "thanks Hotch."

The corner of his mouth went up in response. A few minutes later he let her out at the front entrance of the Radisson and headed back to the precinct to collect their work. It was almost seven and the rest of the team was also just returning from an unproductive day. And after quickly comparing notes it was agreed that everybody had, as Emily would have said, "zilch, nada, nothing."

Hotch said they'd start fresh with victimology in the morning.

Having lost a bet with Rossi over the Bears and the Jets, Morgan was treating everyone for dinner but Hotch declined as he explained that Emily was back at the hotel and that he'd told he'd be back soon.

They all left for dinner and Hotch followed them to the parking lot a few minutes later, making two quick stops on the way back to the hotel.

/*/*/*

Juggling his bags and his files, Hotch knocked twice on Emily's hotel room door. She opened it a second later and looked him up and down before she raised her eyebrow in amusement, "what did you bring me?"

While she was looking at him, Hotch had been giving her the same once over. She'd changed out of her suit into a tank top and sweatpants, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. And to his consternation he could see she was rubbing her lower back as she stepped aside to let him enter. He handed her the bag in his left hand.

"This one's dinner. Tomato soup and grilled cheese from the deli."

She bit her lip . . . he bought her comfort food.

Carrying the bag over to the desk she pulled out the containers and foil wrapped sandwiches. She sniffed before turning back to him, "it smells delicious," she smiled softly, "thanks."

He was such a sweetie.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he sat down on the bed, "you're welcome," he started digging into his second bag, "I also bought you a couple other things."

Emily looked over to see him pulling out a bottle of Motrin, which she'd need because she realized she only had Tylenol with her. And then she saw the next thing in his hand and her eyes started to sting . . . oh.

Biting her lip she walked over to him with watery eyes, "you bought me a heating pad!"

Hotch gave her a soft smile, "yeah, I remembered it used to help Haley so," he shrugged, "there you go."

Emily sat down next to him, looking down at the heating pad in his hands before she leaned up to kiss his cheek. As he turned to give her a bemused look she gently wiped his face.

"That was really sweet. Thanks."

His expression softened as he reached up to tuck her hair back behind her ear.

"I don't like to see you in pain Emily."

Her eyes crinkled, "that's because you're a good man Aaron Hotchner. And," she squeezed his hand, "I am very lucky to have you in my life."

He gave her a dimple as he squeezed back, "ditto."

"Now come on," he pulled her up off the bed and handed her the bottle of pills, "let's eat before it gets cold."

Emily popped two Motrin and then they settled in with their soup and sandwiches as they discussed their dinner plans for the next night.

They'd been on this case for forty-eight hours already, but Hotch was still hopeful that they'd be able to wrap in time to pick up Jack and have dinner at Emily's. Jack was looking forward to it and Hotch hated to disappoint him.

Not to mention how disappointed Hotch himself would be if they didn't get home in the next eighteen hours.

His visitation for the entire weekend would be completely shot. And that hadn't happened in months. Haley would let him at least pick up Jack for dinner when he got home, but that wouldn't even be close to being enough time with his son.

After they finished eating and cleaned up their trash, Emily climbed up on the bed with her heating pad. Hotch took the chair in the corner and they both settled in to review the original case files and their notes from that day's interviews.

/*/*/*

Two hours later Emily looked over to Hotch.

"I can't read anymore. My brain is full."

As he flipped another page, Hotch responded flatly, "how much space was there really left to fill Emily?"

Emily's jaw dropped before she started laughing.

"I can't believe you SAID that to me!"

Hotch looked up, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Actually, I can't either," he paused, "obviously I'm spending entirely too much time with you."

She huffed, "obviously," and then she rubbed her hand across her face, "seriously though Hotch, if I read about one more twenty year old boy being viciously beaten and raped, I won't sleep tonight."

Hotch rolled his neck. She had a point. There was a certain point where diligent police work crossed the line into masochistic psychological torture. He had let that line blur for awhile, but Emily was the one that now helped to remind him . . . sometimes enough was enough.

He closed his file and nodded at her.

"You're right, we should stop for tonight."

She flashed him a quick grin, "I'm glad you concur because I really didn't want to feel guilty if you were going to keep working."

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly as he started picking up his papers. But then he looked over to see Emily pushing herself off the bed still holding her side. He stopped what he was doing as his brow wrinkled with concern.

"It still hurts?"

Emily stopped on her way to the bathroom.

"Eh, the heat helped but it's basically going to bother me as long as it's flaring up. I've never had it be a distraction for longer than a day or so. It should be 'ignorable' by tomorrow." Seeing the questioning look on his face, she preempted him opening his mouth.

"This is normal. I don't have to go to the hospital, it's not rupturing."

Hotch's eyes popped out as he yelled, "they can RUPTURE!"

Emily cringed . . . crap. Apparently that wasn't the question he was about to ask.

"I thought you said that Haley used to get them. You didn't know they could rupture?"

Hotch dropped his papers on the floor . . . they flew everywhere.

"NO! I did NOT know that they could rupture!" he shook his head, "God Emily, I was just going to ask if you were sure that there wasn't another pill you could take," he started frantically looking for his keys, "we're going to the hospital!"

Rupturing! What was she thinking? Rupturing sounded REALLY bad! His eyes scanned the room . . . now where the hell were the frigging car keys!?

Emily sighed as she shook her head.

_He really was adorable when he was having a nervous breakdown._

She went over and calmly placed her hand on his arm.

"Hotch, listen to me."

Her jaw twisted . . . definitely _not _listening.

And from this close a distance she could clearly see the slightly wild eyed panic in his eyes. Yeah, she really needed to get him down from the bell tower before he popped a vessel.

Taking a breath she yelled his name, "AARON!"

Hotch stopped looking around the room and turned to look down at her with worry.

"What? Are you okay!?"

Emily started speaking very slowly.

"I'm fine," she shook her head, "we DON'T have to go to the hospital. I am not in serious pain. It's just uncomfortable. And it actually is a little better than it was earlier." Her eyes crinkled as she rubbed his arm, "that's because of the heating pad and the Motrin that you brought me," seeing that she was making some headway she gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm really fine. This is normal girl stuff."

Still wary, he looked down at her with a slight frown.

"You promise that you will tell me _immediately_ if it starts to feel like not normal girl stuff?"

Some part of his brain registered that he'd just said the phrase 'girl stuff' but that didn't really seem important at the moment. All that was important was whether or not she needed to see a doctor.

Looking at the worry on his face, Emily felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. Really, as she thought about it, she realized she would probably be freaking out just as badly if she thought there was something wrong with him. She should be more understanding of his feelings.

Biting her lip, she reached up and pulled him down into a hug. As she felt his arms encircle her, she pressed her lips to his ear.

"I promise you Aaron, if I was ever really sick I would tell you."

Hotch flinched at her words . . . just at the idea of her being sick. His brain couldn't process such a thing. And as he felt his eyes start to burn he lifted her up, holding her tightly to his chest for a moment as he blinked the tears away.

Once he started to feel the last of his panic fade, he kissed her cheek and then whispered, "you better."

He felt her nod and he exhaled slowly before he put her back down. But for a moment he continued to hold her close, staring into her eyes before he gave a slight nod.

Okay.

Emily, seeing that the Unflappable Hotch Face had once again returned, smiled at him. But then she decided that some teasing was in order to take the tension out of the room. The night was still early and she didn't want a pall hanging over them. So her eyes crinkled as she patted his hip.

"Now that you're breathing with normal respirations again, can I please go to the bathroom before we have a whole other personal matter to contend with?"

As she'd hoped, that resulted in a patented Hotch glare before he closed his eyes muttering, "God give me strength."

He'd never known another person who could run his emotions through the gauntlet like Emily could.

Seeing that they were back to normal, she patted his arm as she walked away. She called back with a grin just as she shut the bathroom door, "as long as you're praying for stuff maybe you could have Him rustle me up a diet coke and a bag of chips," and the lock clicked.

Hotch stared at the closed door for a moment and then laughed out loud.

That woman was going to be the death of him.

As he rubbed his hands down his face, he went over and tore off a blank page from his legal pad. And before stepping out of the room he scribbled a note which he left on the bed.

'_Back momentarily, off on an errand for the Lord.' _

'_P.S. He told me no BBQ . . . He said you'll make a mess. – H'_

* * *

_A/N 2: So obviously a little foreshadowing there with her getting sick later. I kind of felt bad writing it. If that's his reaction now to just the idea of her being sick, can you imagine how awful he feels when she actually DOES get sick? Good thing he doesn't really exist, huh? :)_

_The brain is full joke, if it sounds familiar it's because it's Far Side. LOVE Far Side! My whole family is the kid at the push/pull door._

_Again, this is a two parter. The second picks up immediately from the end here. _

_**LATE EDITION TO THE A/N**: Just to clarify on Hotch's use of the word "osmosis". I know that the scenario as laid out really wouldn't prescribe to the proper scientific definition of the word. But where I come from, 'picking something up by osmosis' is simply a colloquialism for learning something just by spending a lot of time with someone. And because so many people I know use that phrase, it didn't occur to me that maybe it was only a local/regional thing. So thank you to my lovely reviewer for bringing that up so I could clarify that point so nobody thinks I'm ignorant :) Actually the only word I occasionally use incorrectly (it's a brain block) is 'molting'. And that's just because I think it sounds like mold so I think of it when I'm describing something as getting moldy. But in reality it means to slough or shed scales or an outer layer of skin. See, I know the definition, I've known it probably since junior high and yet STILL I use the word incorrectly because it just sounds like it should mean something else. So I am certainly not above the occasional grammatical error, but on this one, rest assured, I acutally did what I did on purpose :)__  
_

_Next: "__**It's a Hotch Thing**__"_


	108. It's a Hotch Thing

**Author's Note**: I'm back! Anybody miss me?

Good news, I have one chapter for you! Bad news, I have _just_ the one chapter for you. For over a week now I've had like no time to write (which isn't helping my stress because fake life generally destresses me from real life). And beyond not having anything else close to ready to go up, I also have minimal web access. Getting this posted was a production! I'm like one step above standing on a street corner to get a signal. Funny the things that become 'basic necessities' even though they are not in any way necessary for you to actually live.

To recap, this is the companion piece to "It's A Girl Thing." Again, both of these are taking place the evening after the giant spider in the bathtub.

* * *

**Prompt Set #7**

Show: Bewitched

Title Challenge: My Boss, the Teddy Bear

_Mid October: Friday_

* * *

**It's A Hotch Thing**

Emily exited the bathroom to find an empty hotel room. She scrunched up her face in confusion until she saw the note on her bed and then she started to laugh as she read it. He was so cute. Especially when he knew that she was just kidding around. Of course she didn't really expect him to go get her a snack.

Her face softened as she put the note back down . . . but he did lots of things for her that she didn't ask him to do. Like the heating pad, or getting her tub cleaned last night, or just bringing an extra coffee to the briefings if he knew she'd be running late. And he always called now to make sure she got home okay. He was the last person she talked to every night. And she knew she could call him at three in the morning if she had a bad dream, or even if she just couldn't sleep and needed somebody to talk to. Being single, even when you were lucky enough to have friends and a family, life could still be pretty solitary. And that's how she'd become accustomed to living her life. But she hadn't felt alone like that in months. She couldn't pinpoint a day, but sometime between their annual review, and the night she'd spiked that fever, somewhere in there she and Hotch had connected . . . and things had started to change.

She hadn't been in a serious romantic relationship since she'd started at the BAU. At first she didn't have the time, but as the years had passed she realized she was too old to keep playing the same old stupid games. And though she and Hotch weren't romantically involved, he looked after her, and worried about her, more than any of the men . . . and for some of them she used that term loosely . . . who had ever professed their undying devotion to her in the past.

Her eyes stung slightly as she looked at his jacket slung across the back of the chair . . . he really was the best thing in her life.

Just then there was a knock and she quickly wiped the corner of her eye so nobody would see her crying over, well, nothing. She was blaming her uncharacteristic emotionalism on the cyst messing with her hormones.

Her eyes crinkled as she looked through the peephole to see that the Lord's errand boy had returned. With a smile she opened the door and stepped back, "you didn't have to do that you know. I was just joking."

Hotch dropped his vending machine purchases on the bed as he turned back to her, "I know you were only kidding, but," he winked as he handed her a bottle of diet coke and one of the two bags of chips he'd bought, "I also know how much you enjoy your potato chips."

His lips twitched as he saw her amusement at the bag of plain Lays. He knew barbecue was her favorite but she was now only allowed plain when they were working because the last time she had barbecue she'd put brown fingerprints all over his case notes. He'd glared at her and she'd given him a sheepish "sorry."

But he could never really get mad at her for anything anymore because ten seconds later his jaw was quivering as he watched her try to brush away the soaked in greasy prints. He'd shaken his head as he'd told her, "unless you've invented the ability to travel through time, those prints are permanent additions to the file." She'd looked up with a pained expression, knowing that he liked his things kept orderly, but he'd just given her a little smile, "it's okay, but henceforth when there are case files in the room you are on a barbecue chip ban." Emily had accepted the decree without protest but unfortunately the next day Reid had noticed the brown marks on Hotch's notepad and he'd looked over in alarm, "is that blood?" Emily had scowled at him with a "shut up Spencer," and Hotch had to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Hotch took a swig from his bottle of coke as he watched her now getting situated on the bed . . . laughing out loud was usually only a problem when Emily was around.

As he opened his snack bag he looked over at her, "so what do you want to do?"

Still munching on her chips, Emily looked down at her watch before she looked back at him, "it's still kind of early so we could watch a movie."

After checking his own watch and seeing that it was only a little after ten, Hotch tipped his head, "movie sounds good." He kicked off his shoes and pushed himself back to the headboard as Emily leaned over to grab the remote off the nightstand.

It was a lucky break given how much time they spent together that they'd discovered they had the same taste in so many things. Neither of them watched much regular television so basically in their vegetative state downtime it was generally a choice between documentaries, reruns of old TV shows or a movie. Most people would probably find that kind of boring, but they weren't most people. Their jobs often made real life much too exciting so they embraced the mundane wherever they could.

Emily started flipping through the pay per view options on the hotel cable.

Porn . . . porn . . . horror . . . torture porn . . . cartoon . . . she paused . . . _Away from Her_. She'd been wanting to see that for awhile now but she kept forgetting to rent it. Her nose wrinkled . . . but it was a romance. And it was Hotch's turn to pick, and romance definitely was _not_ his first genre choice. He preferred political thrillers or dramas with some sort of moral compass to them. Most things in the chick flick arena were watched under good natured protest.

Hotch saw Emily's eyes widen as she stopped briefly before she flipped to the next selection. His own eyes crinkled in response . . . it was obvious she wanted to watch that one but she didn't think he'd like it. That was typical Emily consideration for his feelings. But he knew that she still didn't feel well so if that was the one she wanted to watch then he'd suffer through whatever it was. He cleared his throat.

"Go back two. I think I want to watch that one."

Looking over her shoulder, Emily saw him propped against the headboard nonchalantly twisting the cap onto his coke. He winked at her and she bit her lip as she smiled back before she hit the button for the movie. Then she crawled over to kiss his cheek before she curled herself against him and put her head on his chest. Then she patted his stomach, "you're the best."

He rolled his eyes as he put his arm around her shoulder, "yeah, yeah I'm the best. But if this is one of those teeny bopper love stories you're going to owe me big Prentiss."

Her lip quirked up, "it's not, I promise."

It was actually the complete opposite of a teeny bopper love story, and Emily hadn't realized it would be so sad. One patch of Hotch's light blue dress shirt had turned dark blue before the movie was half over. She sniffled as she tried to, very unsuccessfully, dry it with her hand. Hotch just gave her a little smile, brushing his fingers through her hair as he put her head back down on his chest, "it's okay, you just watch your movie."

She murmured a watery "thanks" into his shirt and settled back down. But she flinched a second later as the muscles in her back twinged again.

Feeling her tense up, Hotch looked down worriedly, "you okay?"

As she nodded, she put one hand behind her and began to rub her back again. She'd been doing it all day.

"Yeah, it's just the stupid lower back pain. It's another symptom that should hopefully clear up by tomorrow."

Hotch slid his hand down from where it was resting on her bare shoulder, moving her hand aside as his fingers began gently rubbing in the same spot, being careful not to hurt her. She smiled and wrapped her arm firmly around his torso, "thanks."

He whispered "no problem" and they turned their attention back to the movie.

/*/*/*/

When the credits began to roll almost an hour later, Hotch looked down. Emily was so still that he thought she might have fallen asleep.

So he tipped his head down and whispered, "you awake?"

Then he felt her nod against his chest.

"Yep, I'm awake." And then she put her hand over her mouth, yawning before she finished her thought. "That was good. I liked it."

"Yeah," Hotch picking up the remote to put the television on mute as he agreed, "it was good." And then he ran his hand along her back while continuing formally.

"Nice selection Agent Prentiss."

Her eyes crinkled as she used his stomach as leverage to push herself up.

"Thanks sir."

After she'd leaned back against the headboard, Emily pulled her knees up in front of her. Then she yawned again and tipped her head over to Hotch's shoulder.

She was ridiculously tired. It had been two very long days on the road though. And as much as Hotch wanted to wrap early tomorrow, she knew that they really they had no definitive end in sight.

And that depressing thought was enough to sap what little energy she may have otherwise had.

Hotch's eyes shifted down to look at her . . . she really needed to go to bed. But he had one question he wanted to ask first.

"Emily?"

She murmured back sleepily, "hmmm."

His brow wrinkled.

"What do you know about me? I mean things I never told you but you figured out. I felt uncomfortable knowing all of those things about you, but you must know things about me too."

When they were talking earlier this thought had obviously occurred to him but he'd pushed it aside. But as he watched the movie, thinking about this couple and all of the things that they didn't talk about, he'd realized he needed to ask Emily that question.

Not talking about things, putting them aside to deal with later, that was the behavior that had destroyed his marriage. And it didn't matter the nature of his relationship with Emily, she was too important to him to risk falling into old patterns. He had learned the hard way how unhealthy it was to lock things away, even if you did it with the best of intentions. And though they still had their secrets about their pasts, as far as the present was concerned, he and Emily did keep things very open. So he decided that as long as they were talking tonight anyway, they might as well put all of their cards on the table.

Hearing the tone of Hotch's voice, Emily realized that the question wasn't just casual, so she blinked a few times to perk up.

If the answer was important to him then she wanted to give it her full attention.

Sitting up straight she leaned against the headboard and stared at the bedspread, "well, the obvious one is that you hate cases involving children most of all."

Though the cases with obvious correlations to Jack clearly were personally upsetting for him, Emily had noticed generally it was the abuse elements of the cases that seemed to rattle him even more than the murders themselves. And she'd seen enough of his scars to know why that was, but she certainly wouldn't be elaborating aloud on that topic right now.

They still hadn't reached someday.

She rubbed her hands slowly on her knees as she really thought about the question. There were so many things that she knew about him now it was hard to just pick a few. So she decided to hit just the big ones.

"Even though you make fun of them," she started softly, "you really like all of Journey's soft rock ballads. And that's because you're secretly a romantic and still believe in true love. I also know that you would probably shoot yourself in the foot before you'd admit either of those things to anyone besides me."

She took a breath.

"Morgan's occasional recklessness concerns you not only because he puts himself in danger, but because you think it's partially your fault because you should have been able to get it under control by now." She patted his leg, "it's not your fault by the way, those are his demons he's chasing and he'll catch them eventually." As she pulled her hand back, she continued softly. "You worry as we leave for every case that one of these days we'll be five coming home instead of six, and . . ." she turned to him with a sad smile as she hit the biggest one, "and you miss being married. But you're not sure if you miss Haley or just the idea of her."

Hotch's eyes burned as he looked over at Emily in amazement.

"Wow."

Bulls eye on every one.

Emily nodded as she bit her lip.

"Yeah, so you see now why I didn't get freaked by everything you told me. Like you said, it was weird knowing your secrets when you didn't consciously share them." She patted his leg again as she smiled softly, "I feel better now knowing that you know what I know."

He picked up her hand from his leg and squeezed her fingers.

"That's how I felt when I told you too."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Hotch slowly exhaled as he let go of her hand.

"I should get going," he pushed himself up, "we have an early day."

Emily nodded as she also stood to walk over to the door with him. Bu then suddenly he stopped short and turned around.

"How are you feeling?" He asked worriedly.

She smiled, "okay."

He quirked his lip up.

"Do you really feel okay, or are you just saying that so I won't worry?"

Laughing, Emily responded, "no, I really do. I'm not 100% but I do feel much better than I did. And that's at least partly from everything you did," her eyes crinkled, "thanks again."

He nodded and then he stared at her for a moment before his face softened and he said quietly, "you know it is just the idea of her."

Emily quirked her head and he took her hand again, "I realized that last month. I don't miss Haley anymore. I haven't for a long time. I came to see that my marriage was over long before I signed those papers. But for so long after that I just missed having somebody. Somebody who cared if I got hurt. Somebody to talk to about my day, who would try to cheer me up if I was unhappy, but . . ." he tucked her hair back, "I have you now, so I don't have to miss those things anymore."

Emily looked up at him with a watery smile, "that's good."

He flashed a dimple as he winked, "yeah I think so too." Her eyes crinkled as he pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.

A few seconds later Hotch heard Emily murmur against his chest, "you know you could sleep here tonight." His eyes crinkled slightly as he whispered back, "are you going to wake me up with giant spider dreams again?"

She smiled into his shirt, "I don't think so. If you'll recall, in the second version of the dream you did kill all of them with that hand grenade."

Huffing slightly he rubbed her back, "I still think I could have found a less messy way of dealing with the problem. But I guess as long as they're dead then we'll have a peaceful night's sleep."

If he was honest with himself he actually slept better with Emily. Especially on the road. The details of the cases burrowed into his brain, the images torturing him. But when he was with her, he felt calm and peaceful. His eyes crinkled, and if he had to slay a few dozen giant spiders for her that was a pretty small price to pay if that's what he was getting in return.

Besides . . . he kissed her forehead . . . she was still in pain. And though he believed her when she said this was normal 'girl stuff' he would definitely feel better if he was here in case she needed anything.

He leaned back, "I'll go change."

Eyes crinkling she looked up at him, "good, and while you're gone I'll turn the AC up to sub-Arctic."

She always had to turn the air conditioning up for him or else he'd wake up too hot and they'd have to negotiate blankets. And though she made him keep the heat up when they were awake, she didn't mind how cold it was after they were in bed. Because then she could snuggle.

And everyone knew snuggling was the next best thing besides cuddling.

Hotch huffed slightly and went over adjust the AC himself before he left. It had taken him over a month but he had just about figured out the happy medium setting that allowed them to have only two light blankets on the bed and she wouldn't freeze and he wouldn't roast.

As soon as Hotch left, Emily went into the bathroom to wash her face and take another pill. After that she changed out of her bra and tank top and into Hotch's Academy t-shirt. Frowning, she sniffed the material for a moment . . . it just smelled like Tide.

It had lost its Hotch scent.

And part of its appeal in helping her sleep when she was by herself was that it smelled like him. But she figured if she wore it to bed with him now then it would be good for another couple of nights when he wasn't around. Just in case the giant mutant spiders came back this week and he wasn't there to hand grenade them for her.

It was important to plan ahead.

And after setting the alarm ten minutes early so Hotch could get back to his room to shower, she climbed right under the covers. He had taken her key card so she didn't have to stay up to let him back in. Though she was planning on waiting up for him anyway, she was a little groggy from the extra pill she'd taken. Given that she had no tolerance built up for them she'd probably taken one more than needed, but she didn't want to wake up at 3 am with a backache.

That was her only complaint at the moment.

And though it wasn't actually _painful_, it was uncomfortable enough to mess up her sleep. And by extension Hotch's sleep, and she'd already had him up three times last night. Both of them could use a solid five plus hours of uninterrupted slumber.

It wasn't until Emily was lying down that she realized that she could have used her heating pad too. But at that point she was too tired to get up.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard the door and her eyes crinkled as they popped open again.

This was a treat having Hotch with her two nights in a row, especially on the road. Sleeping with him next to her made her feel safe . . . happy. And safety and happiness were two things in short supply when they were in the middle of a case.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Hotch's whisper as he climbed into bed.

"Are you asleep?"

With a slight shake of her head slightly she murmured back, "not yet." And then she pouted, "I forgot my heating pad." Her eyes crinkled slightly when she felt him move up behind.

"You shouldn't use it when you're sleeping," he whispered right before his fingers ghosted over her hip. "Is your back still sore?"

At her affirmative nod, he pulled her against chest, wrapping his body around hers before he murmured.

"I'll keep you warm."

Her lip quirked up and she picked up his hand to kiss his fingers.

"Thanks."

Hotch couldn't remember the last time they consciously went to sleep this way. But if her back was sore the body heat should help keep the muscles from getting tight. Probably as much as the heating pad would have, but without any physical dangers. Too many things can go wrong with items like that when you're sleeping.

He kissed her neck before closing his eyes.

_This way was better._

/*/*/*

A few hours later Hotch slowly opened his eyes, staring at the wall in front of him. As many strange hotel rooms they slept in every year, it always took him a second to remember where he was.

Chattanooga . . . Emily's room. That's how he could see the wall.

Her ladybug nightlight was plugged in because of her bad dreams the night before.

Emily herself was still wrapped up in front of him. And he could tell from her breathing that she was still sound asleep. He knew she was a heavy sleeper anyway but the Motrin had pretty much made her dead to the world. Hearing a quiet rapping on the door, he realized what had awoken him and he gently untangled himself from Emily. Then stood up with a roll of his neck and went over to check the peephole.

JJ

And she was crying.

Then completely forgetting that this wasn't his room . . . and that it might look a little odd that he was sleeping there . . . he whipped opened the door.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly.

JJ blinked in surprise as Hotch appeared. She'd been expecting Emily. But any stray thoughts about the implications there were pushed aside as she felt another twinge in her stomach. Another tear ran down her face as she looked up at Hotch.

"It's the baby," her voice broke, "I've been awake for like an hour but I don't know if it's real labor or false labor. The contractions are kind of random so I think it's false, but if it's real then it's too early."

God! She wasn't due for another four weeks. This was much too soon.

Hotch's eyes widened.

The baby would definitely be premature if it came this early. But then he started to relax as he realized that JJ was rubbing only her stomach and not her back. From what he'd learned during Haley's pregnancy, that made him think that it was probably false labor.

Haley had the Braxton Hicks contractions too, but she noticed them earlier. So after one really bad scare in her sixth month they came to figure out the difference pretty quickly. This must be the first time JJ had noticed them. And he could see how nervous she was so he gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure the baby's fine," he whispered, "come on in." Before she could protest, he reached out and took JJ's arm, ushering her into Emily's room. After he'd locked the door again, he guided her over to the chair by the nightlight.

There he knelt down in front of her and squeezed her hand.

"Okay," he began whispering, "couple questions. How much pain are you in? And do you have any back pain?"

JJ took a breath before responding.

It was weird talking about this with Hotch, but then she remembered his wife had a baby so of the entire team he was the only one that might actually know what was going on right now. Even though she was like 85% sure it was probably false labor before she knocked on the door she was still freaking out because it was two thirty in the morning and Will was six hundred miles away so she didn't have him right next to her to tell her the baby was fine.

Maybe it would work just as well if Hotch said it.

In the same hushed tone as Hotch she replied softly, "no back pain. And it's not really painful so much as a little bit uncomfortable. I got up to go to the bathroom and I got the twinge," she gave him a watery smile, "and then I started getting really nervous because I was by myself so I came over here to see Emily," her eyes went past Hotch to see the back of Emily's head.

Noticing JJ's gaze . . . and only then picking up on the fact that it probably didn't look right that he was clearly sleeping in Emily's bed . . . Hotch suddenly got a little uncomfortable. He quickly explained.

"Emily wasn't feeling well. I stayed in case she needed anything."

It wasn't the only reason he stayed but it was the truth.

Momentarily forgetting why she was in the room, JJ's eyes widened in concern as she looked past Hotch, "is she sick?"

"No," Hotch shook his head, "just a um, migraine."

Okay, that one was a lie but he wasn't about to tell anyone else Emily's personal business. Even if he was quite sure that Emily herself would have told JJ what the problem was he still didn't think it was right for him to do it. Some part of his brain tried to point out he had no problem telling Emily Haley's business but he told that voice to shut the hell up as he patted JJ's hand.

"I think you're in false labor, Haley had it repeatedly for the last couple months and that's what it sounds like. I can tell you when she went into real labor her back hurt. But if you really think something's wrong, or just if you'd feel better going to the hospital, I'll take you now."

JJ stared at him for a moment and then shook her head.

"No, I'm okay. I guess I just panicked," she started to feel embarrassed, "I know about the Braxton Hicks but that's just the first time I felt them. And I guess because I was all by myself and it's the middle of the night I started freaking out more than I would have in the daytime," she moved to try to push herself out of the chair.

"I'm sorry for waking you up. I'll let you get back to sleep."

_'In Emily's bed'_ was the tag that automatically went on that one. Though she knew Hotch would never be so open about sharing Emily's room if they were actually having sex. Even if they were involved like that she knew they wouldn't be doing it in the middle of a case.

Most likely he had stayed because he was worried about her.

And when she realized how incredibly sweet that was, JJ's eyes started to water. A sweet Hotch made her miss Will even more. He'd be up with her right now, telling her everything was fine and that the baby was okay. And if she didn't know he had to be at court at eight in the morning she would have called him. But she wanted him to be well rested for his testimony. She just hated having to go back to her room by herself.

If she did have another symptom she didn't want to be the girl that cried wolf over and over.

Seeing the tears in JJ's eyes, Hotch felt a little dig in his gut and his face softened as he helped her out of the chair.

"Why don't you sleep in here?" He tipped his head over towards Emily, "you take the bed and I'll sleep on the floor."

He of course had a perfectly good bed of his own, but he was already staying in case Emily needed him and now he could see that JJ might need him too. She was obviously anxious and he didn't feel right sending her back to her room by herself. He knew she'd never get back to sleep if she had her stomach twisted in knots worrying. But he also knew she'd put up a token protest so he just shook his head as she started to open her mouth.

As he walked her across the room he continued speaking softly so he wouldn't wake Emily.

"This way if you have any problems you won't be alone," he pulled one of the pillows off the bed and looked down at her, "okay?"

JJ looked up at him and then over at Emily sleeping.

She hated to kick him onto the floor but she really would feel so much better staying with them. When she knocked on Emily's door she'd kind of been hoping she'd let her sleep with her. She looked back up at Hotch with a grateful smile as she whispered, "thanks."

His eyes crinkled as he said in the same tone, "you're welcome."

After helping her get into bed, he pulled up the covers, grabbing the third blanket from the bottom of the bed where Emily had rolled it earlier. He knew the girls would be cold without it. As he tucked JJ in his eyes crinkled, "try and get some sleep. I'll be right here if you need anything," he gave her a firm look, "and really, if you want to go to the hospital, don't hesitate to wake me up."

She gave him a little smile, "okay."

He really was such a good guy. As she settled back on the pillow, her features softened when she watched him go around the bed and pull up Emily's blankets too. Though JJ still wasn't sure just how close they were, it was obvious how much he cared about her.

A lot.

Though as she thought about it, he had also just tucked her in too, so maybe that was just Hotch being Hotch. With a sigh JJ closed her eyes, pushing her speculation about their relationship aside as she tried to go back to sleep again. Just having somebody else in the room with her had majorly decreased her anxiety levels.

The little twinges didn't seem so scary now.

Plus she hadn't had one since she was at the door so maybe they had gone away. She'd been googling Braxton Hicks when she was freaking out in her room by herself. And it did say that sometimes they'd just go away if you changed positions.

As she focused in on Will's face JJ sent up a silent prayer that everything would be quiet for the rest of the night.

Hotch figured even if he couldn't sleep with Emily he could still sleep next to her, so he dropped his pillow on the floor next to her side of the bed. After that he grabbed the extra blanket from the top shelf of the closet and spread it out on the carpet like it was a sleeping bag. And then . . . with a weary yawn . . . he climbed into the makeshift sleeping back and closed his eyes again.

/*/*/*/

Emily peered down at Hotch sleeping on the floor and then her eyes shifted back to JJ. The clock said it was almost quarter of four. And they had gone to bed around midnight, so she had deduced something unexpected had happened while she was sleeping which resulted in her change in bedmates. Which was totally fine, she had no problems sleeping with JJ.

Except . . . JJ had stolen ALL of her blankets!

And now Emily was freezing to death! And JJ was pregnant so it's not like she could steal them back. You can't steal blankets from a pregnant lady, that's just mean. But they still weren't getting up for another two plus hours and there was no way she was getting back to sleep when she felt like a frozen fish stick. So Emily grabbed her pillow and carefully put her foot down on the floor. Hotch was covered with a blanket so she couldn't see all of his extremities and she didn't want to step on him.

After she was standing Emily dropped her pillow on the floor next to Hotch and then went in to pee. When she came back out of the bathroom she could see him holding up the blanket for her.

She was rubbing her arms, as she hurried over and got down on the carpet. And still shivering, she climbed right on top of him and buried her face in his neck. When she thought he was sleeping she was just planning on sleeping close enough for body heat, but as long as he was awake she was taking advantage of the opportunity to warm up.

Putting his lips to her ear, Hotch wrapped his arms tightly around Emily as his eyes crinkled.

"You're shaking," he whispered, "did JJ take all of your blankets?"

Half shivering, half nodding, Emily murmured back.

"Yes, and you can't steal blankets back from a pregnant lady. I think you'd probably burn in hell or something." Then she mumbled against his throat, "Is she okay? What happened?"

As he closed his eyes again, Hotch whispered sleepily.

"False labor. She was nervous and I felt better keeping her here with us in case she had any more problems. I told her I was staying with you because you weren't feeling well either," he paused, "if it comes up I told her you had a migraine. I didn't want to discuss your 'lady stuff' without your permission."

Chuckling slightly at his use of the term, 'lady stuff' Emily snuggled in closer.

"You're like Dr. Hotch tonight looking after all of his patients."

His hand moved down to rest on the small of her back as he murmured faintly, "you're my two favorite girls, who else would I trust to look after you?"

Knowing from his change in breathing that he was now asleep, Emily didn't respond beyond a smile as she closed her own eyes. With JJ in the room she certainly couldn't stay on top of him all night but she figured as soon as she warmed up she'd roll off to a respectable distance.

As those words came to her, Emily felt another blanket fall on her back and she looked up to see JJ giving her a sheepish smile.

"I'm sorry for chasing you out of your bed," she whispered. Then her eyes crinkled as they shifted to Hotch lying peacefully below Emily, "but that bed looks pretty comfortable too."

JJ had woken up when Emily came out of the bathroom. It was so quiet that she'd heard the two of them whispering as clear as day.

His favorite girls.

Her eyes had stung even as he said it. She had no idea that Hotch was that fond of her. She knew that he liked her but he was always so reserved at work it was often hard to read him. But he was clearly much more open in expressing his feelings to Emily than he was with the rest of them.

Not to mention the fact that he was allowing Emily to use him as a mattress because she was cold!

And this clearly wasn't the first time that they had been in that position, because Hotch didn't even consider it a noteworthy enough event to stay awake. So she's lying on top of him like it's nothing at all, and yet anyone else on the team, he'll barely so much as touch their arm unless he's pulling them out of the line of fire.

For a moment Emily stared up at JJ, she was too stunned to say anything. She'd just gotten caught cuddling with Hotch.

Shit!

Though the self righteous part of her brain said that at four in the morning when she was in her own damn room she should pretty much be allowed to do whatever she wanted to without any fear of somebody else seeing it! And that little part of her brain was about to make Emily say something very defensive when she realized that JJ hadn't made any insinuation in her comment, and she wasn't giving her any weird looks. She just looked . . . normal. Well, as normal as it was to have JJ peering over the bed at her, lying on top of Hotch, lying on top of the carpet of an economy hotel room in Chattanooga, Tennessee.

After pushing herself up slightly, Emily cleared her throat before she whispered back.

"Um, this isn't what it looks like. I was just cold and Hotch is really hot," feeling a blush on her cheeks she stammered, "I mean, like body temperature wise, he's . . ."

JJ cut her off with a smile as she responded softly.

"I know what you meant. And I know you guys are close so I wasn't jumping to any conclusions," she snorted, "besides I figure even if there were conclusions to jump to I'm pretty sure you two wouldn't be having sex on the floor if I was in the room."

Even though JJ had decided their relationship was none of her business, there really was no way she couldn't at least comment on what she was seeing. It wasn't every day that she came across anyone in on the team in the position the two of them were in right now. It actually would have been way more bizarre for her to not say anything at all.

Emily's eyes almost popped out of her head at the mental image of having sex on the floor with Hotch while JJ was two feet away. She was so horrified at the thought of it that her whisper was almost a yell, "God no, we weren't having sex!"

Feeling Hotch start to stir at the noise, Emily put her hands over his ears before she lowered her voice and looked back to JJ.

"We are NOT involved like that. We're just friends," and then taking note of her position, she tipped her head, "granted very CLOSE friends but that's it."

JJ eyed Em for a moment. Even though she hadn't taken all of their behavioral courses she could still tell that Emily was speaking the truth. They really weren't sleeping together.

Huh.

Though given the little snapshot JJ just had of how Hotch and Em interacted when they were alone, JJ was now convinced that if Emily wasn't going to pursue a relationship with Hotch then JJ might have to knock her upside the head.

For God's sake, he stayed with Emily because she was having 'lady stuff' issues! That was adorable. As was the fact that he had lied to JJ about it to protect Emily's privacy. Simply the fact that Emily had told him what the 'lady stuff' problem was showed a level of intimacy between them that JJ wasn't expecting. Girls didn't talk about stuff like that with guy friends. Though she thought about it, obviously Hotch wasn't a regular guy friend because JJ herself had just been discussing her fake labor pains with him.

With a small grin JJ looked down at the two of them.

"Okay, I believe you." And seeing the look of worry on Emily's face JJ's expression softened as she continued, "and I certainly won't tell Garcia or any of the guys about your . . . um, sleeping arrangements."

Emily released a grateful sigh.

"Thank you. It's just that they would give me crap about it and," she looked down at Hotch as her eyes started to burn, "our relationship is really important to us," she looked back up at JJ with watery eyes, "I don't want anything to screw that up. And just their teasing would be . . . upsetting."

She was really afraid that it would make them feel awkward and self conscious in front of the others.

Seeing how upset Emily was, the damn hormones made JJ's own eyes burn in sympathy. She reached down to rub Emily's shoulder.

"Hon I swear I won't say anything. It's nobody's business. And for what it's worth, I think you guys seem really happy," her eyes crinkled at she looked at Hotch, "you've been good for him," her gaze came back up, "and he's been good for you. I love you guys, and I would never do anything to hurt either of you. And if you prefer that these aspects of your friendship be kept private then I respect that."

And then JJ tried to lighten things up a little.

"Hey," she whispered with a little smile, "I'm just grateful that the cool kids let me crash their party. I was borderline panic attack when I was in my room alone. And Hotch made me feel better, and then he let me stay here so I wouldn't be by myself."

Emily's eyes crinkled as her gaze dropped to Hotch.

"He is a sweetie," she looked back up at JJ, "and you're always welcome with us," her brow wrinkled, "okay, that sounded kind of weird because we're not like living together or anything. But you know if we're on the road and you're ever nervous about the baby, or just wake up lonely and want company, don't hesitate to come over no matter what time it is. If I don't answer my door then I'm at Hotch's, but," Emily's fingers gently ran across Hotch's jaw, "we'll always make room," looking up with a smile, Emily she said softly, "after all, you're our favorite girl."

Now Emily understood what it was like to share the wealth. She no longer had to be alone, why should JJ? It hadn't really occurred to her before, all these months, but Emily could have extended this invitation a long time ago. But for some reason it just seems like if you live in your little bubble, you have to stay in your little bubble. But her relationship with Hotch had taught her that you could make room. You can share pieces of yourself that you thought had to be locked away.

JJ was right . . . he had been really good for her.

Wiping her hand under her eye, JJ nodded.

"Thanks Em, that means a lot."

The women stared at each other for a moment, JJ then realizing a new understanding had been reached in their friendship. She had been included in something that was special to Emily. And to Hotch as well. And knowing how private they both were she understood what an honor it was that they had opened the door, both literally and figuratively, to her tonight. She hoped eventually maybe they would actually become a real couple, but either way, listening to them whisper in the dark, she knew they were happy together, and that's what mattered.

Suddenly taking note of the time, JJ realized they'd been talking for almost ten minutes. And not only was she exhausted, they had an early day. The sooner they solved this case the sooner she could get home to Will. And then she wouldn't have to crash in other people's beds just so she wouldn't be lonely.

Her eyes crinkled as she looked down at Emily, "sweet dreams Em."

Emily smiled back.

"You too Jayje." Then she watched as JJ yawned before disappearing back over the top of the bed.

Emily lay back down on top of Hotch.

Now that they were busted she saw no reason to move. She was still cold, and he was a hell of a lot more comfortable to lie on top of than the carpet. There was a little voice in her head that said she could just get back up in the big bed with JJ, but she told that voice to shut the hell up.

Shifting slightly, she moved her head to his shoulder, trying to go back to sleep. But she was just laying there, knowing the minutes were ticking past as she thought about JJ, their conversation, and what she had said about Hotch.

It was a little strange having another person in their bubble. But at the same time she was proud that somebody else could also see in Hotch what she saw. That even though he was hard as nails, and could be a cranky bastard, he really was the sweetest, kindest man that she'd ever met.

Tilting her head slightly, she pressed her lips to his ear.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but you're my favorite guy." And then Emily closed her eyes, not expecting any response. But a second later Hotch murmured back, "then you should really let me get some sleep."

Emily's eyes popped open and she grinned before whispering back, "you've been awake the whole time?"

Opening one eye Hotch looked down at her as he said softly, "in and out since you yelled 'sex'," his other eyes opened as he added drolly, "sort of a trigger word there."

Chuckling softly Emily put her head back down, "sorry."

Hotch kissed the top of her head, "it's okay," he rubbed his hand down her back as he whispered,

"did you two have a good talk?"

He'd heard enough to know it was definitely a conversation that was best that he stayed out of completely. But he'd heard the emotion in Emily's voice so he had made sure not to fall back to sleep until they were done.

Just in case she needed him.

She nodded against his chest as she responded in the same tone, "we did. And though it definitely wasn't a conversation I would have planned, I'm actually kind of glad it happened. It'll be nice to have at least one person in our lives that we can just be ourselves around."

Hearing the slight tinge of sadness in her voice, Hotch felt a stab of guilt. Again, they were doing nothing wrong, and again, they had to hide such a simple thing as the true nature of their friendship. But they just could NOT be their private selves around the rest of the team. It would be inappropriate. JJ was one thing. She was personally close to both of them. But beyond her it became a slippery slope. Not because he didn't trust the others, but because in a little over a month she would be leaving on maternity leave. She'd already told him that she was working on a temporary replacement.

And that meant a new body.

An outsider.

There was no way he could so much as hold Emily's hand around an outsider, let alone have it be common knowledge within the team that he and Emily often slept in the same bed! It was one thing for the others to assume he occasionally fell asleep while they were working, another thing entirely for them to know that they consciously chose these sleeping arrangements.

He slowly ran his hand up and down her back . . . no, that would not do.

Knowing from Emily's breathing that she was still awake he murmured, "I think we've had even less sleep tonight than we did last night."

With a sigh, Emily laced their fingers together.

"But at least there were no megalospiders with acidic blood trying to eat me."

He pulled her in closer as he closed his eyes and slowly exhaled.

"Thank God for small favors."

* * *

_A/N 2: I finally got JJ into a scene! I think a couple people had wanted to see Hotch & Em get 'caught' after that first night they slept together. And JJ was actually the logical one though because nobody else would show up at the door in the middle of the night and Hotch would let them sleep there. Also, it works out best with her because she will be going on maternity leave so she'll have the little gap in time from seeing how they are now to how they'll be in December (H/P & JJ/Will all go to a Christmas party) and she'll realize then that they're in love. Because JJ was 'offscreen' for most of The Hours, we don't know what she knew when. So therefore nothing in there precludes her knowing any of this stuff now._

_I might do a little follow-up piece for the next morning but I don't know. I actually have nothing else written for October except Emily's realization that she's in love and one for Halloween. And I do want to add in at least the in vitro trip. So basically we'll be going super slow here. I should hopefully have regular Internet access by the end of the week but I still don't have much time to write. I'll post when I can though. From pre-move I have chapters in various stages of completion for Chances, Mirror, Aaron & Emily and Horses. God knows which one will go up next but I'll try and read through them tonight to see which ones are half assed completed and will take the least amount of time to polish._

_If anybody has any ideas on stuff they'd like to see, in any of my stories, don't hesitate to send them along. Sometimes the writing comes a little faster if I get a specific request from someone. Often because those are quickie one shots so they take way less time to pull together than something like this that was all relationship developmenty. _

_Lastly, because I have very limited web access my responses to people will take longer so I'll do a general thank you now for any and all feedback I may get. And I promise, once things settle down I'll drop a note to anyone that's written._


	109. Between the Wanting and the Getting

**Author's Note**: In case you aren't aware, the whole site has been having 'technical difficulties' since early Saturday. That meant no posting. And I actually had like 3 chapters I could have put up! Some quickies I whipped up in my last days of freedom before new employment. I ended up not doing the morning after with JJ thing. This came to me instead. In part from the new prompts we picked and in part from something that I wrote in Second Chances. I'll explain about that at the end. And if you're reading Chances, I posted there too.

* * *

**Prompt Set #9**

Show: MASH

Title Challenge: Mr. & Mrs. Who

* * *

_Late October: Tuesday_

**Between the Wanting and the Getting**

"What are you doing?"

Emily stopped fixing Hotch's tie as she looked up at him nervously.

"I just want to make sure that we make a good impression."

They were standing in the hallway outside the glass doors of the fertility clinic/sperm bank. After Hotch had agreed to come with her to the appointment most of her anxiety had faded away, but as they were riding up on the elevator she started to get worried again.

What if they thought that she would make a bad mother? What if they sent her packing without so much as giving her the time of day? That would totally suck! So she was just straightening out Hotch's tie again so they'd look _really_ good.

Okay, granted, Hotch always looked good, but it never hurt to primp a bit.

Hotch's mouth started to quiver as he squeezed Emily's hands.

"Emily, we're just here to pick up some pamphlets and find out the basics on how this in vitro stuff works. And given that the woman who just got off the elevator with us was wearing flip flops and some sort of hemp dress with a big marijuana leaf on it, I'm pretty sure that we," he looked back and forth between their nearly identical black suits and white shirts, "look _qualified_ to raise a child."

Though he was technically just there for moral support, he really would be helping her with the baby. Besides that point though, he knew that these people didn't really give a crap about anything except whether or not Emily had a high enough credit rating to afford the procedures.

Of course he wasn't going to say that to her.

No, as far as Emily was concerned Hotch just wanted her to believe that these people were nothing less than qualified medical professionals who wanted to help her have a baby. And he had already checked this place out thoroughly so he knew that they were indeed qualified to assist her on that point.

That said, there was a bottom-line, and baby making was a cash cow industry. So he was just keeping an eye out for the hucksters while she kept her eye on the baby booties.

Emily sighed as she looked back and forth between the two of them before taking a breath and shifting her gaze back up to his face.

"I guess you're right," she gave him a little smile, "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. This is the first step in maybe building my own little family," her eyes dropped down as she added softly, "it's a big deal."

Hotch's face softened as he looked at her for a moment. Then he pulled her into a hug and whispered against her hair, "I know, it is a big deal. But I promise it'll be fine. Especially today, they really aren't going to do anything. We're just going to get some information so you don't have to be nervous," he squeezed her, "okay?"

With a slight huff, Emily nodded against his chest, "okay."

This is why she asked Hotch to come with her. She knew that he'd make her feel better if she started freaking out.

Seeing that Emily's nerves were now sufficiently calmed (for the moment) Hotch slipped his arm around her waist and they continued down the hall to the clinic. When they got to the glass door leading to reception, he pushed it open to let Emily walk in first, then they both stopped for a moment to look around.

Hotch hated the place on sight.

The waiting room was done in pastels, there was wicker furniture, and they were playing some sort of crappy new age music. Not to mention the air smelled like sandalwood.

It was like The Golden Girls meets Zamfir and his pan flute.

Feeling Emily tense up, and knowing that she usually had similar feelings about most things as he did, Hotch knew immediately that she wanted to leave. So he pulled her tightly against his side as he whispered in her ear.

"Remember, you're just getting information. We can find another place to have the procedure done."

Feeling herself start to relax slightly at Hotch's words, Emily nodded, "right."

It's really a good thing he reminded her of that because otherwise she would have turned around and walked out right now if anyone here thought that they were going to touch her.

This touchy feely crap made her skin crawl.

Perhaps it worked well for soothing most women, but her, she just wanted to rip the Yanni playing speakers out of the wall.

With Hotch's fingers loosely grasped in hers, they walked up to the desk and Emily smiled politely at the receptionist, trying to ignore the mood ring she was wearing on the piece of twine around her neck.

God she hated this place.

The woman looked up from her typing with a polite smile.

"Can I help you?"

Emily nodded, "I have an appointment at 3 pm. The name's Prentiss."

The girl looked at the computer and then smiled at her, "yep, I have you right here," her eyes flicked over to Hotch and then past him to the sitting area, "you and Mr. Prentiss can take a seat in the waiting room. Dr. Yablonski will be out shortly."

Wincing slightly, Emily nodded again, "thank you," and then she looked up sheepishly at Hotch.

He was rolling his eyes.

Oops. She knew there was something that she'd forgotten to mention to him.

They got married.

They walked over and sat down on the little couch across from the hemp lady. She was reading a copy of Redbook.

Down by the potted plants there was one other couple also waiting. Power broker types, both of them were on their blackberries, there was a foot wide gap between them on their couch, and they were ignoring each other completely.

Yeah . . . Emily rolled her eyes . . . they'll make great parents.

Not that she and Hotch were there as "parents" but still, it was obvious they had a better relationship than those people did. They usually did anyway. Emily just hoped that Hotch wasn't genuinely peeved about the husband thing. It was one thing when random strangers just assumed it when they were out in public.

That was kind of amusing.

It was another thing entirely to consciously tell an in-vitro clinic, aka sperm bank, that they were Mr. and Mrs. Prentiss. That could be kind of like a 'what the hell?' moment.

So in an effort to subtly gauge his mood Emily leaned against his side, waiting to see what he'd do.

It took barely a second for him to put his arm around her shoulders. She sighed in relief . . . he wasn't mad.

They were quiet for a moment and then she patted his stomach as she said softly, "I probably should have mentioned that to you earlier. Sorry. I told you I just wanted to make a good impression," she cleared her throat, "so I sorta kinda maybe said I was bringing my husband with me."

Hotch rubbed her arm, "it's okay," he paused before adding drolly, "I have to say though, that was very progressive of me to take your name."

Nodding seriously, Emily looked up at him, "yeah, I thought so too. Personally I would have just hyphenated but you insisted on changing it completely," she was quiet for a moment and then added, "your wedding dress was lovely though. I didn't think you could pull off the strapless, but with a push up bra you really made quite a splash at the reception."

Mouth quivering in amusement, Hotch stared at the floor for a moment and then he snorted before laughing out loud and leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

"Emily Rose _what_ am I going to do with you?"

It didn't matter how many months had passed, she never ceased to amaze him with the ridiculous pictures she could paint in his head. Every day with Emily was a new adventure.

She grinned at Hotch before sobering and leaning up to kiss his cheek, "really Aaron, thanks for coming with me."

He ran his fingers up and down her arm as he whispered back, "of course."

The whole team had looked at him strangely that morning when he said that he and Emily were both leaving at 2 o'clock today and wouldn't be available on their cells from 3 to possibly 5. Emily didn't yet wish to advertise her desire to have a baby to the world at large, so neither of them elaborated on their plans beyond a "personal errand."

Their secrecy about their activities didn't help the strange looks they got because it was almost unheard of for Hotch to restrict phone access. But he figured that the world wouldn't come to an end if Dave ran things for a couple hours. Hotch knew he'd certainly given enough blood, sweat and tears to that place over the past fifteen years. And if his divorce had taught him anything it was that if he wished to have a healthy relationship with anyone, his priorities seriously needed to be whacked back into alignment.

Perhaps if he had occasionally turned his phone off for Haley then he wouldn't be divorced right now.

But . . . he squeezed Emily's arm . . . that was neither here nor there. He was no longer in love with Haley and he no longer wanted her back. He just tried to take the lessons of that failed relationship and apply them to his life now. Something good should come out of all that pain. So the lesson he applied today was that if the person was important to him, and the activity was important to her, then he should give her his undivided attention.

The people in your life should always rank higher than your job. Someone should have told him that a long time ago.

So their phones were on silent and Hotch told Dave he'd check in when they were done. He could tell Rossi really wanted to know where they were going, but he showed admirable restraint in only asking once and taking Hotch's good natured "none of your damn business" for an answer.

Of course knowing Dave, Hotch wouldn't be surprised if he had a GPS satellite, aka Garcia, tracking them right now.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prentiss?"

Even though that was NOT his name Hotch still looked up. He saw a very pretty black woman around his age walking over to them.

She smiled, first at Emily and then at Hotch, "I'm Dr. Yablonski," she gestured behind her, "if you'd like to come down to my office we can have our discussion in private."

They both stood and shook her hand before following her down the hall. Hotch's brow was creased slightly in curiosity as they walked behind her. She really didn't look much like a Yablonski. Then he saw the wedding band and realized it was probably her married name.

That assumption was pretty much confirmed when they entered her office and he saw the pictures of her family. Her husband had pale skin and blonde hair . . . he raised his eyebrow appreciatively as he took in the whole family . . . they had nice looking kids. Definitely took after their mother.

His attention was brought back to the matter at hand when Dr. Yablonski gestured over to the sitting area in her office. Another couch. But this time there were two sitting chairs across from it with a small table in between.

Once again he and Emily took the couch, leaving the chair for the doctor. Emily picked up his hand when they sat down, but he no longer felt the waves of tension he'd been getting when they first walked in the door.

He knew the difference now was that she liked the doctor. She was dressed as conservatively as they were, except she was wearing a dark green suit and simple gold jewelry.

No mood rings like the girl out front.

Most importantly though, there wasn't anything hippy or crunchy about her appearance or her office. She had Monet and Van Gogh prints hanging on the walls, which had been painted a pale yellow. The couch and chairs were brown leather and the rest of the furniture was pine.

It was still 'soothing' but it was much more professional than the waiting room. Or at least professional in a way that people like Emily and himself related to. Not to mention he was pleased with the diplomas from Harvard and Tufts. If Emily chose to come to this clinic then Hotch would be okay with it.

Not that he technically had any say in the matter. Emily was a grown woman, and their professional relationship notwithstanding, he had no authority over her actions. But he also knew that Emily valued his opinion, and if he told her there was something about this place that he didn't like then he knew without a doubt, she wouldn't come here again.

As the doctor began talking, explaining the procedures, Emily started thinking about something she hadn't really thought about before.

A donor.

There were so many nutjobs in the world, it stood to reason that some of them were sperm donors. And she didn't care what kind of 'rigorous screening process' the doctor thought they had, Emily had personal, up close experience with knowing how the 'normal people' were the ones you really needed to be afraid of.

Shit.

See, now this was her concern with finding a father for her kid in real life. That she'd pick a dud. But now she was picturing all these creepy freaks in her case files doing it in a cup. And then it would be inserted into her . . .

Hotch looked over as Emily suddenly dug her fingernails into his hand. He shot her a worried look but she shook her head slightly and pasted on what he knew from experience was the fake interested smile for the doctor.

Okay . . . his brow furrowed slightly . . . something had just happened. And he was pretty sure that, regardless of whether or not the doctor was done talking . . . they were done here.

Emily tried to at least be polite and pretend that she was still listening, but basically she was ready to go. She was also filled with sadness. This had seemed like such a good idea. Even if she had been nervous before it was excited nervous, not stomach twisting in dread nervous. Before she thought this might be the first step in starting her family, now she saw it as just a dead end.

Apparently adoption would be the only option available to her. Not to stay that there couldn't be freaky people fathering those children, but at least they wouldn't be fathering them with her. Though statistically she knew it unlikely, the visceral recoil was the idea of having a child _with_ an UNSUB. And though every once in a while she had come across someone that she simply believed was born evil, for the most part she believed that Nurture, not Nature, played the greatest part in determining how your child would turn out.

It was the people that raised you that made you the person that you were.

Though as she felt her hand in Hotch's she immediately flashed on the scars on his body, the abuse that he had clearly suffered for years. The person that raised him was a monster. But Hotch himself was the finest man that she knew.

Perhaps it was all a crapshoot.

Either way though . . . she swallowed over the lump in her throat . . . no anonymous donors for her baby. And she sure as hell didn't have anyone she'd ask to do it in a cup for her. The men in her life were the men on the team. And though all of them possessed excellent genetic material, Spencer's family history of mental illness notwithstanding, she wouldn't just be asking them for a donation, she'd be asking them to have a kid with her.

Uh, no.

Aside from completely destroying their personal dynamics, just like the problem with the potential UNSUBS, it was again like having sex with that person. And with the exception of Hotch, she really couldn't see herself having sex with any of the guys. It would be icky.

They were like her brothers.

Hotch on the other hand, her feelings for him were not brotherly. And that was because of that night in the bar. That had set the tone for the rest of their relationship and removed any familial undercurrents from their interactions. And Hotch, she knew without a doubt, was absolutely perfect father material.

Still though, she could never ask him to do that. It was hard enough for him only seeing Jack part-time, she'd never put him in a situation where he'd have another kid he was separated from. Though of course she wouldn't have any ridiculous rules in place, Hotch could have a key and come over whenever he wanted to. And they usually spent at least one night a week at each other's place so really . . .

Wait a minute . . . she blinked . . . what the hell was she doing?

She gave an internal eye roll . . . apparently trying to figure out a scenario where she could ask Hotch to father her baby and it wouldn't end up breaking his heart. Yeah, it was definitely time to go home. Now she was doubly depressed and just wanted ice cream . . . her eyes dropped down to their hands joined together . . . and a cuddle.

Fortunately that's when the doctor began wrapping up her presentation, holding up some diagrams of the female reproductive system. Emily nodded like she was interested but really, at that point she was completely on autopilot. And luckily Hotch seemed to sense that because suddenly he was the one asking the questions and making the appropriate responses. He was also the one that handled the post presentation wrap up. Explaining to the doctor that "they," she felt another wave of sadness at his disingenuous use of that pronoun, were still exploring their options but would definitely be in touch if they decided to go the in-vitro route.

Emily didn't have much in her beyond a polite smile and a 'thank you for your time' before Hotch hustled her out of the room carrying the folder of materials Dr. Yablonski had handed him. The doctor was definitely giving them a strange look as they left, but Emily didn't suppose it mattered at that point.

They wouldn't be coming back here.

By the time they got to the elevator her eyes were burning. But there were other people around them so she was trying to keep her shit together. It was a stupid thing to be crying about anyway. Well, maybe not _stupid_, but tears weren't necessary. Nobody had died. It was just that she felt so depressed. This had seemed like such a good idea before, and now the option was completely off the table. Her chances of having a baby had just been cut in half. Now she was down to just adoption. And it took forever to adopt a healthy newborn.

And she was a single woman with a dangerous job. What reputable adoption agency was going to put her on the top of their waiting list?

Feeling the tears welling up, she turned her face into Hotch's jacket and his arm automatically came around her body. Breathing in his scent and feeling his hand on the small of her back, she tried to get back to her center. Still though, to her chagrin, she felt the trickle of tears begin to run down her face.

Damn it.

The elevator came and Hotch kept his arm around Emily as he stepped into the back corner. He didn't want anyone to see that she was crying. She hated for strangers to see her weak. So he just pretended they were any other loving couple by tucking her against his body and tipping his head down to hers.

His heart always ached when she cried . . . and today was no different. And he really wished he knew what it was exactly that had thrown her off during the presentation. He'd run through it in his mind and he couldn't pinpoint anything special about the doctor's speech that would have been upsetting to her. They were grown educated people so nothing the doctor had covered about the process had really come as a surprise to him. So he was sure it wouldn't have surprised Emily either.

His face softened as her arms slipped around his waist and under his jacket . . . but you never can tell how someone's brain is going to work. The associations that it will make.

As the elevator arrived on the lobby level he felt her sniffling against his jacket. He waited until everyone else was off before he took them out, walking them straight over to the doors and out into the fading October sun. They were in Montgomery County so he wasn't worried about seeing anyone they knew.

The car was in the lot next door, but instead of going there he walked them over to the small park across the street. There were only about a dozen people in sight. At this time of day they were post professional lunch crowd and pre people getting home from work.

He and Emily had a drive ahead of them, and he couldn't take care of her in the car. If she needed to talk, or just cry, he wanted to do it now where he could give her his undivided attention.

So rather than taking one of the benches, which were right on the paths by the walkers and joggers, he sought out some privacy. Seeing a grouping of willow trees he headed in that direction.

And then, knowing his suit was due to go to the cleaners anyway, he sat on the ground, pulling her down in front of him and back against his chest as he leaned against the tree. Feeling her sigh he put the folder down next to him and then loosely knotted his arms at her waist before whispering in her ear, "what happened?"

As she wiped the corner of her eye, Emily whispered back, "I just realized it wasn't going to work out," her voice cracked slightly before she cleared her throat, "that's just not the right procedure for me."

She didn't want to tell him about the donor thing. It would be an awkward pause, and Hotch was all she had. There couldn't be any awkward pauses with him.

Realizing there was probably a bit more to it than that, Hotch still opted not to push her any further. It was her body, her life, whatever she wanted to do, or didn't want to do, it was up to her. He had thought before that adoption would perhaps be a better option for her anyway. And he'd be happier about her decision to not pursue artificial insemination if only she wasn't crying.

He gently rubbed her stomach . . . he did so hate to see her cry.

Emily settled back against Hotch, letting out a breath as she tried to shake off her melancholy. Perhaps if she hadn't been so excited about the appointment then she wouldn't have been so disappointed when she realized the problems inherent in that procedure.

Oh well . . . she sighed . . . it was just a setback.

Admittedly a major setback to her only real dream, but, dwelling on that wasn't going to make her feel any better. It's not like she'd never have a family now. It was just going to be a little harder than she'd thought. But this realization certainly wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her. Hell, it wasn't even the worst thing to happen to her this month!

That would be Hotch getting shot.

So as long as she kept that comparison, she was able to put her sadness into context and she started to feel a little better. Even if she didn't have prospects to get her baby yet, she still had Hotch. She pulled her knees up, turning slightly so she could put her head in the crook of his neck. And as she'd hoped, his arms moved to encircle her completely.

This was when she felt safest, curled up in a ball with Hotch wrapped around her. She inhaled deeply and murmured against his throat, "can you stay over tonight? We could get pizza and ice cream and drink beer while we watch Dirty Jobs."

Hotch's eyes crinkled . . . Mike Rowe always cheered her up.

He whispered back.

"Yeah, we could do that. I have to stop at the office though and pick up some files," he huffed, "this is the shortest work day I've had in years."

She reached up and touched his cheek, "I know. I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have asked you to come, it was just a waste of time," she sighed, "you could have been doing something more important."

Hotch frowned as he tipped his head down against hers, "hey, being with you is never a waste of my time. And whatever your reasons were for deciding that wasn't the procedure you wanted, I'm glad I was with you when you realized it," he kissed the top of her head, "you being happy is the most important thing."

If he'd sent her to this appointment alone then she would have been crying alone. He rubbed his hand along her arm . . . and he couldn't stand the idea of her being sad and him not being there to take care of her.

Emily looked over at the light splashing on the water, and then she felt the warmth of his body taking away the chill that was settling into the air. Her sadness began to fade and she smiled softly as she whispered back to him.

"I am happy."

_

* * *

A/N 2: They are definitely at a stage where I wish I could have light dawn on marble rock and them both realize they're in love. But the Hotch scenario has guidelines in place and the Emily one, well, I actually really like the chapter I wrote for her already so I don't want to lose it. But rest assured, it is coming up in the next week anyway. We are in the latter half of October and I decided to have both happen right at the end of the month. Well, perhaps Hotch will be the first week in November, either way, we're almost there! And in case it wasn't obvious, Emily's line at the end was sort of her subconscious telling her that things would be okay :)_

_This one was a little tricky because it would be a good place for Emily to realize that Hotch was the one she loved because she was the only man in her life she could imagine possibly fathering her child. But I thought it was plausible that in a simple close friends scenario that she would resist asking him that question simply because she wouldn't want to put him in that scenario of being a part time dad again. And if you're reading Second Chances you'll see that issue was addressed over there as well (Chp 8). Which is actually what put me in mind to add it in here. There actually is a bit of symmetry between the two chapters. The rest of it though, really, if you started actually THINKING about all the creepy people that could be sperm donors, yeah, I think that could be enough to put you off the process of going anonymous. And that was kind of important because I needed to shut down this plot point realistically before they moved too far into it and THEN they separately realized they were in love and it was all 'oh hey, turns out I don't need to get that stranger sperm after all because I decided I'm just going to have babies with you.' _

_That could be somewhat of an awkward declaration of affection._

_And to be clear, I didn't research in vitro and sperm banks and artificial insemination simply because I wasn't planning on going that route in the story and it wasn't until I was done that I started thinking about them. I know they're all kind of the same arena but I imagine there are some slight differences in the stuff people do with the turkey baster versus the stuff that has to be done in the test tube. Yeah, I know that's kind of icky but I believe it's how it's done.  
_

_Love the feedback folks :)_


	110. The 'L' Word

**Author's Note**: Finally, Emily gets a clue!

*******************************************

**Prompt Set #9**

Show: Without A Trace

Title Challenge: More Than This

*******************************************

_Late October: Wednesday_

**The 'L' Word**

Hotch entered the lobby bar raising his head above the crowd to try to find Emily. They'd wrapped a difficult case early that evening and should have flown right home. But one of the pilots wasn't feeling well so Hotch had pushed off their return flight until morning. The others were happy enough to have an extra night in Chicago. Usually they were in and out so quickly everywhere, and they were working the whole time, so they never got to actually see the town.

Ironically probably half the team had some connection to the windy city. Emily, Derek and Dave had all been stationed there at different times with different agencies, so they were happy to stay and hit their old haunts.

Derek and Spencer, the latter against his will, had gone to Morgan's favorite restaurant and then a club. JJ was hitting the home stretch of her pregnancy and she'd gone to bed as soon as they returned to the hotel. And Dave, as he often did, just gave everyone a wave and went off on his own.

This left Hotch alone with Emily, which . . . he thought with a smile . . . was fine by him. They were going to get dinner but when she'd come to his room to get him he'd been on a call with the medical examiner. She told him she'd wait for him downstairs.

That was almost fifteen minutes ago.

Now where . . . ah . . . there she was, in the corner of the bar. As always when she saw her now, he could feel his heart lighten immediately. The weariness he'd felt talking to the ME was thrown off and replaced with something else. Something he hadn't placed yet, and he started slipping around the crowd to get to her.

The place was packed, there was a class of '84 reunion going on in the hotel. As he got closer to the bar he noticed with some amusement that there was a man with a very bad hair piece sitting a few seats down from Emily. And he was very obviously waving his hand trying to get her attention.

As Hotch walked up he started to lean in to make a joke about it, but he stopped . . . she was crying.

What the hell?

He placed his hand on the back of her neck, "Emily? What's wrong?"

Emily knew it was Hotch before he even opened his mouth and she quickly wiped away the tears that had just started to leak down her cheeks.

Crap.

As she turned towards him she pasted on a big smile that she knew he would see right through, "nothing's wrong, I'm fine."

Her response might have been a little more convincing if her voice hadn't quivered at the end. And she could see he was obviously concerned so she made a lame joke to try to distract him.

"I was just lamenting the alarming number of polyester blend suits and spandex mini-dresses in here. Is it 1983? Because I tossed out all of my leg warmers years ago."

Hotch could see the misdirection for what it obviously was. Reaching down to pick up her hand he shook his head slowly.

"Emily . . ."

How could she think he would ignore her crying?

Wiping the corner of her eye, she shook her head dismissively as she said with false cheer, "really Hotch, I'm good," she tilted her head to the side as she appeared to be listening to something for a moment. Then she slid off her stool and held out her hand, "come dance with me."

Biting his lip, he looked down at her, so pretty and so vulnerable, with still watery eyes and a smile he knew she was wearing solely for his benefit.

He wasn't sure he could have denied her anything at that moment.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he gave her a sad smile and took her hand, "okay."

Pulling her back against his chest, he slid his hand around her waist as they cut across the room. As always when they danced in public, they chose a little swath of land by the wall.

Always hidden far enough away to be invisible if anyone they knew walked into the room.

It was a slow song that was playing. Hotch recognized it as an old love song, from the 80s ironically. As he pulled Emily against his chest, he looked around the room. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe there was a theme going here related to the reunion and it wasn't just that all of these people were terrible dressers.

Huh. He shook his head . . . no matter.

Holding one of Emily's hands close to his chest, he put his other hand on the small of her back, and tipped his head down to hers. It took them only a second to disappear into their own world on the crowded dance floor. There was a slight gap between their bodies at first, but as the song continued Emily moved closer. And then she was leaning against him, and as he looked down he could see her eyes were filling again.

His heart clenched and he kissed her forehead. And then, running his hand up her back he pressed his lips to her ear as he pleaded softly with her, "sweetheart, _please,_ tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help you."

He realized then that he had never called her sweetheart before. Hell it was barely a month ago that he started regularly calling her by her first name when they were off duty.

Unfortunately his use of that endearment now just seemed to make Emily cry harder. Shaking her head, she pressed her face further into his jacket so nobody else would see her tears.

Feeling his gut ache, he hugged her more tightly against him, shielding her from the crowd. And as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head he murmured.

"Shhh, it's okay," he rubbed her back, "you don't have to tell me right now."

Though he definitely did plan to follow up later. Because Emily crying for no reason was not normal. And if there was something, or someone, bothering her then he wanted to know.

Emily sniffled before whispering back, "thank you," then she rested her head against his chest, right over his heart, and closed her eyes.

Damn stupid song. The Rose.

She'd always thought it was kind of sad, but then sitting in the lobby bar waiting for Hotch to come down, it had started up just as she could sense him walking over.

And it had hit her as squarely as that 2x4 in Milwaukee. She could sense when he was near her, and she was excited at the idea of seeing him again, even though she'd just spent the last three days working at his side.

Hell, for the past three months, they'd barely had more than a day a week that they hadn't spent time doing something alone together without the team. Coffee, meals, errands . . . playing with Jack, just plain sleeping. All of that, no matter how mundane the activity, was the best part of her day.

Everything in her life was better when Hotch was there.

And suddenly she could see what she'd been blind to before . . . she was totally, completely head over heels in love with him!

How had this happened!? This wasn't supposed to happen!

But thirty seconds after that revelation, as she was trying to process it and decide what it meant, Bette, stupid Bette Midler, starts singing about being a coward for being afraid to take a chance on love. She started to tear up. Because she was afraid to take a chance.

They had such a good thing going and she didn't want to screw it up.

It was hard enough to try to know your own heart, another thing entirely to try to gauge somebody else's. Somebody you work with, somebody you work _for_, and somebody you realized a month ago had become your best friend.

The single most important person in your life.

What if something went wrong between them? What if she couldn't have THIS anymore?

And THIS . . . she inhaled his aftershave . . . this was wonderful. And she didn't want to screw it up by pushing for something that he wasn't ready for.

Of course he doesn't know any of this ridiculous insanity going through her head. He's just being sweet and wonderful . . . she slid her hands under his jacket . . . because he's always sweet and wonderful. That's just who he is.

He doesn't even know that she's crying because of a stupid song.

And then he called her sweetheart. It was the first time he had done that, and her heart had shattered like broken crystal. Did that mean he did feel the same way about her? She didn't know. Because he always called her his pretty girl. Hotch loved her, she knew that.

She just didn't know if he loved her the same way that she had just realized that loved him. Like if something happened to him, then she would never be happy again.

Did he love her like that?

As the song ended, she sniffed and wiped her hand across her face. Feeling Hotch's hands run down her back she looked up at him. He moved them over to the wall and using the pads of his thumbs, gently wiped away her tears.

His brow was pinched as he looked down at her worriedly, "are you okay now, really?"

Nodding, she put her hand on his hip as she gave him a genuine, if slightly watery, smile, "yep."

Even if she wasn't now, she'd figure it out. And in the meantime, they had plans and she wasn't going to let her momentary Bette Midler induced breakdown screw them up.

As he stared at her, not for the first time in his life wishing he had the ability to read a woman's mind, Hotch could see she didn't really want to talk about it right now.

She just wanted things to go back to normal for a little while.

So for her sake, as he watched her trying unsuccessfully to clean up her runny makeup, he pushed aside his worries for a moment and tried to get them back to center. He kissed her forehead before murmuring against her skin, "you know if I didn't find the whole concept of a reusable Kleenex personally repugnant, I might have a handkerchief I could offer you right now."

Emily giggled against his chest and then laughed out loud before she looked up at him, "I never thought about it like that but, yeah that is pretty gross. Why do people still carry them?"

Slipping his arm around her waist, Hoch walked them back over to the bar, "nostalgia or fashion I guess."

She shook her head with mock sadness, "well there goes your Christmas present. Two dozen monogrammed reusable Kleenex down the drain." Emily bit her lip, "do you know anybody else with the initials AFH?"

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he looked down at her . . . she seemed better. He pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly for a moment before she patted his back and whispered against his ear, "I'm fine Aaron, really."

The last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her.

He rubbed his hand down her back, "okay, just checking," he huffed slightly, "you know the rule, you tell me when you're sad and I'll make it all better."

That had started off as a joke over the summer but it had sort of become his mantra. If she was sad he would do anything in his power to fix it so that she wasn't.

Emily suddenly pulled back, "um, I'm going to wash up."

Okay . . . she started blinking as she ran to the bathroom . . . he really needed to stop being so perfect for a couple minutes so she could get her shit back together.

Hotch saw her eyes were welling up again as she hurried off, but he didn't know what that meant. Having absolutely no idea why she was upset was driving him crazy so he just sat down on one of the stools to wait for her to come back.

His eyes scanned the room for the fiftieth time since he'd walked in. Scoping out potential threats unconsciously, as he always did.

As they both did really.

"Is your girl okay?"

Hotch looked up from his musings, sizing up the bartender who had just spoken. Older, balding, wedding ring, he might have a daughter Emily's age.

He nodded, "yeah, she's fine. Thanks." Realizing this guy might have some information that would be helpful, Hotch leaned over the bar, "hey, was anyone talking to her before I came in? Did something upset her?"

The man started wiping down the wood, "nope, she was very polite, had her diet coke, kept to herself. That noodlehead with the bad rug," he gestured to the end of the bar, the same noodlehead Hotch had noticed, "he was trying to get her attention, but he didn't talk to her. She was fine and then she wasn't and then you walked up."

Hotch nodded, "okay, thank you," just then Emily came back from the bathroom, looking much more like her usual self.

She smiled at him, "you ready to eat? I'm starving!"

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her for a moment. Her eyes were a little puffy from crying but he couldn't see any more tears. Whatever was going on, she seemed to have it under control for now. He'd ask her about it later, maybe when they got home tomorrow. But for now he didn't want to throw her off again. And now that the personal crises was under control, food did sound good.

They hadn't eaten since eleven.

Taking her hand he gave her a little smile, "yeah I'm starving too. Pizza?"

She simultaneous grinned and nodded. And to Hotch's amusement he realized that Jack made that same move last weekend. He wondered if he got it from her or she got it from him.

Shaking his head slightly, he put his hand on her back and started to guide her out of the bar.

//////

They went to a little family place down the street that one of the local detectives told them had the best slice in the city. They drank Guinness and ordered Emily's favorite pie off the menu. They had a very good, very late dinner, and they talked for hours.

Hotch told Emily about his disastrous first year roommate in college, and his years on crew at Harvard. Emily told Hotch about the difficulties in learning the nuances of Arabic colloquial expressions, and the year she spent in Jordan. She said she had pictures she'd show him when they got back home, "you've already seen my look of choice senior year, so nothing else I show you could ever possibly be as embarrassing."

As much time as they spent together, they'd found there was always more to know, more to learn. After all, they'd each spent decades on the planet before they met one another.

There would probably always be more ground to cover.

When Emily left to go to the bathroom Hotch checked his watch, he was surprised to see it was almost midnight; they'd been talking for nearly three hours.

Emily walked back to the table and asked him in astonishment, "did you know it's 11:45!?"

She looked around . . . they were the last ones in the restaurant. When the hell did that happen? The place had been packed when they walked in.

Hotch nodded as he waived the waiter over for the check, "yeah, I just saw that myself."

It was obvious the staff had been waiting for them to go because the guy practically sprinted to the table with the bill. Which Emily grabbed as soon as it was put down, "my turn." As Hotch started to protest she shook her head, "you got dinner last night."

He shook his head back, "the last time we were out together _you_ paid, those sandwiches I got last night were for everybody."

Shooting him an exasperated look, she quickly pulled out her wallet, "but YOU still bought them!"

She grunted to herself . . . where his brain went sometimes she didn't know. Then she felt a burst of warmth in her chest . . . this was another reason that she loved him. Because he _was _so ridiculous sometimes.

It was liberating to have a name for her feelings for him.

As Hotch rolled his eyes, Emily dropped the bills on the table. And then she took his arm and started steering him towards the door, "don't you worry your pretty little head about it Aaron," her eyes crinkled as she looked up at him, "I guarantee that you'll have plenty of additional opportunities to give me free food."

It was silly, but as old as she was, she didn't know if she'd ever really been in love before. But she definitely was now. Of course she'd thought she was before, once or twice. And she'd certainly had her heart broken more than a few times. But nothing she'd ever felt for another man came close to the feelings she had for this one in front of her.

Hotch responded seriously as he held the door open for her, "that's true, you do love to eat."

Emily quirked her lip up, "that I do."

He chuckled and they started back to the hotel. After walking the next half block in a comfortable silence until Emily bumped her shoulder into his, "hey," he looked over and she gave him a soft smile, "I had fun tonight."

Hotch put his arm around her shoulders as he gave her back a dimple, "me too."

Every night with Emily was a good night. But they did have a particularly good time tonight. They didn't usually go out to eat. He huffed slightly to himself . . . it was kind of like a date.

Well, if they did such things it would be like a date.

They continued the rest of the way back to the hotel with Emily's hands in the front pockets of her jeans and Hotch's arm around her shoulder.

That was about as affectionate as they could be out in an area where they could easily run into someone else on the team. The boys were probably back at the hotel by now, but Dave could still be out and about.

Emily made a decision then, there was no way that she was going to risk screwing this up. That wasn't even an option.

They might only be friends but this was still the best relationship she'd ever had. He was the most important person in her life . . . her eyes began to burn . . . maybe even her soul mate. You don't suddenly start shifting things, changing such an important relationship until you're really sure, until you're absolutely positive, that you're both ready to move on to the next thing.

She knew he was attracted to her. Their relationship wasn't at all . . . familial. So she didn't have any fears that he thought of her like a sister. And part of her thought maybe he really did feel the same way about her as she did about him. But another part was worried that even if he did, that he wouldn't make a move either way.

Because he'd had such a hard year. He's only been divorced since the spring, then getting blown up, almost losing his hearing, adjusting to his life without Jack in it full time. And she knew it was a big deal for him to come to her that morning after New York, to make that effort to reach out.

And they've come so far since then.

He pulled her into his life . . . the tears started to pool . . . into Jack's life, and she knew that she was his best friend, just as he was hers. But that relationship took months to solidify, and now she knew him better than anyone else. And she just wasn't sure if he was ready for more right now.

It took them six months to get where they are today, so she figured maybe a few more months will give him time to get on board with taking this to another level.

The status quo was fine. Wonderful actually, she had him with her almost all the time. Hugs, holding hands, cuddling, all there, all good. And it was already the end of October. If she could just get them through the holidays, that should be more than enough time for him to figure out what he wanted.

After all, what could happen in the next three months?

Hotch was in a particularly good mood so he looked down at Emily, "hey, what say we go pound on Derek's door and see where he tries to hide the girl this time?"

Blinking away the moisture in her eyes before she looked up, Emily grinned at him, "hmm, we haven't done that in a few weeks. I say closet."

"I'm going with bathtub," he quirked an eyebrow, "what's the bet?"

As she scrunched her face her head tilted slightly to the side, "three coffees?"

"Deal."

"Deal."

She grinned at him and he winked back before placing a quick kiss on her forehead as he ran his hand down her arm.

Feeling his fingers gliding over her skin she smiled . . . yeah, there was no way she was screwing this up.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Of course with the 'what could happen in three months' there's a little foreshadowing with the cancer. I know I've said before, I feel so guilty making her sick now! And soon I'll be moving into that stage of the story where her symptoms pop up. So I'll apologize now for any potential angsting on that front._

_The song, The Rose, I was actually listening to it as I wrote this draft way back when and it's actually a really sad song. It really would be the worst thing to hit you just as you're going through an emotional crisis. And this was also notable for Hotch's first use of "sweetheart" in Girl. I feel like that should be like an award category. Best First Use of a Personal Endearment Goes To . . . _

_Seriously though, if that was a category, (if we had categories or awards, which we don't) I could submit like 5 completely different chapters now!_

_How amazing is it that there are only two months left in the timeline here but there are about 50 chapters left in the story? It doesn't seem possible, but about 35 of them are written and many of those are set ups for mini arcs so I know they'll go out longer. Seriously, given my writing constraints now, I think we'll probably really be hitting December in their world the same time we hit it in real life. That might actually work well. It'll be nice to have the holidays running simultaneously. It'll be more festive :)_

_Now as far as H/P go, I think we're going to hit Halloween next. The beginning of that is written but it's nowhere near done. Jack (and Haley) are in it. But, I have the strangest urge to write something with JJ/Rossi back at the hotel while Hotch and Em were off having dinner. So I might actually do that. Most likely I'll add it as an offshoot story. Like Three Men and a Pissed Off JJ. If you'll recall that was a side story that took place in the late summer of Girl._


	111. Get Cape Wear Cape Fly

**Author's Note**: Girl returns! I feel like there should be some sort of confetti falling. I was AMAZED to see that it's been a full month since I updated! Though, I do feel the Goldilocks story was a continuation of the last chapter so perhaps that's why it didn't seem that long. Still though, I know, it's been TOO long! I'll try not to fall off the bandwagon for quite such a lengthy period again.

This is the Halloween chapter. The title (which I love and stole from an episode title of One Tree Hill) is in reference to Jack's costume. There will be a second Halloween chapter but that part's not done yet so I figured I'd put up what I do have finished. It's still pretty long, almost 7k words.

_**General Story Pimp**_: I haven't updated on any of my regular stuff this week but if you're interested, and haven't seen them, I did put up two new stories. Stand alones, "Our Story" and "A Love Story in Three Acts." Check em' out :)

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_Late October_

**Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.  
**

As Haley watched the numbers on the elevator rise she started to get more and more uncomfortable.

She hadn't been back to her ex-husband's office in almost two years. But she had a date tonight, and Aaron was supposed to pick up Jack early, but then he had sent her a text that he'd been pulled into a meeting at 4 pm. Which initially Haley thought meant she was screwed. But two seconds later it had been followed by another text telling her that if she came to the office, she could drop Jack off with Emily.

Haley and Aaron had a discussion about Emily a few weeks ago. He said that Haley had a right to know the nature of his relationship with Emily simply because Jack was spending a lot of time with her. Then he told her that they weren't dating. They were just friends.

Though it was strange, that had actually made Haley feel better. Not that it was any of her business either way if the two of them were seeing each other romantically.

After all Haley herself was indeed going out on a date tonight.

But Jack had been talking about "Miss Emily" for almost two months now. And Haley knew that Aaron wouldn't introduce Jack to anyone with whom he only had a casual relationship.

And that's why it had bothered Haley, probably more than it should have, when she found out that Emily had spent that weekend helping Aaron out after he was injured. If she had moved in with him to take care of him because they were together, that would have meant that Aaron had moved on in a way that Haley herself had not.

And not only that, but had moved on with someone that Haley knew.

That would have been very strange. She wasn't quite ready for that. And though she still thought it was going to be a bit odd seeing Emily today, it made it a little better knowing that the woman wasn't actually having sex with her ex-husband.

Well, at least according to Aaron. And given that the conversation itself was simply a courtesy, Haley saw no reason that he would have lied about the nature of their relationship. It's not as though he was in any way accountable to her now.

Those days were long past.

The bottom line though for tonight, was that Jack was thrilled to stay with Emily. Since Haley told him about the slight change in plans for his parental transfer this evening, he'd been chattering away about all the fun things they would do at Miss Emily's house.

Apparently last weekend she'd promised him pumpkin carving.

Haley's eyes crinkled as she looked down at her son dressed up in his Superman costume. He'd just come from a Halloween party. In-house controlled environment trick or treating. Aaron said he was going to take him around Emily's building after work. Haley knew Jack wouldn't be allowed to eat any of that candy, it was just the 'trick or treat experience' that Aaron wanted him to have.

Which Haley thought was pretty funny. Aaron was so overprotective about everything else, yet on this one day of the year he was encouraging his three year old son to go around and knock on the doors of strangers and ask them for candy.

Apparently as long as he was wearing a funny costume when he did it then the rules they instilled in him the other 364 days of the year didn't apply.

The elevator doors opened and Haley guided Jack off the car and into the main corridor. Stopping for a moment to look around . . . it looked exactly the same . . . she then took a breath and headed over to the glass doors.

As she stepped inside she saw that the area that Aaron had always called the bullpen was virtually deserted. But it was after 5 o'clock on a Friday night so that wasn't terribly surprising.

What was surprising was that of the three people she saw in front of her, she didn't see Emily Prentiss anywhere among them.

Damn it.

She walked over to the area closest to Aaron's office; she knew his team sat over there. Twisting her body slightly she looked around at the name plates, finally spotting Emily's desk.

Her computer was off . . . Haley walked over and felt the monitor . . . and it was cool.

What the . . .? Why did Aaron tell her to leave Jack with Emily if Emily wasn't even here?!

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Haley stood there trying to decide what to do. Aaron's light was off so she knew that he wasn't back from his meeting yet.

"Haley?"

Haley whipped around, her eyes widening in recognition as she saw the man who had just called her name.

"Dave?"

Dave . . . Dave . . . what's his last name?

ROSSI!

That's right. Dave Rossi. He'd been Aaron's boss when he'd first started with the BAU.

Dave came over to the railing, "Haley, how are you?"

This was very strange. He had a hard enough time making pleasant conversation with his own ex-wives, let alone his co-workers. But he'd spotted her through his blinds and he couldn't very well leave the woman out here floundering by herself.

Haley tucked Jack in front of her, putting her hands on his shoulders as she gave Dave a polite smile, "uh, I'm good, thank you. And yourself?"

This was awkward. It hadn't really occurred to her that she'd run into anyone tonight but Emily.

He nodded, "I'm good." There was an uncomfortable silence and then Dave cleared his throat, "if you're looking for Aaron he's in a meeting and I think he's stuck in there for a bit longer," Dave looked down at Jack obliviously sucking on his lollipop, "but if it's important I can go pull him out."

Shaking her head, Haley sighed, "no it's not . . . you don't need to pull him out. He had sent me a text message earlier that I could leave Jack with, well . . ."

She trailed off. Knowing how private Aaron was she wasn't sure if he'd appreciate her discussing his personal relationships with anyone else in the office.

Dave stared at her for a moment and then looked at the desk she was standing in front of . . . his eyes widened in understanding before he exclaimed.

"Emily! You're looking for Emily?"

Haley looked up hopefully, "yes! You don't happen to know where she is do you?"

As long as he guessed then it was okay.

Relieved to at least have moved past the awkward pleasantries, Dave started down the stairs, "I do. She and Spencer got held up in traffic. They were supposed to be back by 4:30 but apparently there was an accident on the Beltway."

Haley's face fell as she looked down to Jack, "oh."

Crap. That figures.

Biting his lip, Dave stared at her for a moment, "uh, if you need to go I can watch Jack for you if you'd like," he checked his watch, "it's almost 5:15, I'd think Emily should be back at any time now."

He hadn't done any babysitting in about thirty years but if the kid was just going to sit there and suck his lollipop Dave was pretty sure he could handle that for ten or twenty minutes.

Well, provided he kept his sticky fingers off Dave's new leather chair. Then Hotch was going to owe him big time.

Jack finally tuned in to the repeated use of Emily's name and looked up at Dave with a grin, "Miss Emily's fun!"

Lips twitching Dave looked down at him . . . apparently Hotch's son spent quite a bit of time with Emily.

Interesting.

Then he noticed the slightly pained smile on Haley's face and he immediately sobered up.

Never screw with the ex-wife over the new woman.

Stooping down slightly Dave nodded seriously, "she is fun. My name's Mr. Rossi and I'm another friend of your daddy's," he looked up at Haley, "if it's okay with your mommy, you can wait with me until your daddy and . . ." he paused for a second recalling what Hotch's son had called Emily, "Miss Emily get back."

Haley stared at Dave for a moment, trying to decide if pawning her child off on this man was a good idea. She certainly knew he was trustworthy, but it just seemed . . . bizarre. She hadn't seen the man in ten years and now she's using him as a temporary baby sitter.

She bit her lip . . . what to do . . . what to do?

Then she looked down at her watch and realized they were probably going to completely miss the first act of the play if she didn't get going. She still needed to drive back to McLean, shower and change.

As it was she'd be lucky if she wasn't running out of the house with her pantyhose around her ankles.

Cringing slightly she looked back at Dave, "are you _sure_ you don't mind?"

Before Dave could answer Jack yelped, "MISS EMILY!" and both adults turned to see Emily walking through the glass doors.

Emily's face lit up as she spotted her favorite little man. She opened her arms as she picked up her pace across the bullpen, "JACK IN THE BOX!"

She was hoping to get back before they got here. But of course damn Friday night traffic.

Jack broke free from Haley and took off running across the room. With his cape flying out behind him he leapt at Emily, yelling, "I'M SUPERMAN!" Emily caught him mid leap as she laughed, "I can see that buddy! You just flew through the air!"

Continuing across the room with Jack now on her hip, Emily stopped a few feet away from Haley and Dave. Giving Haley an apologetic smile Emily put Jack back down between them, "hi. Sorry I'm late. I would have called you but," she rolled her eyes good naturedly, "Aaron forgot to give me your cell phone number."

Haley pulled out another polite smile, "that's okay, we just got here actually," she started digging in her purse, "uh, here I guess seeing as Jack does . . . well, I should give you my number."

The awkward pause had not escaped Emily and she suddenly realized that this was probably a little weird for Haley. Emily knew that she had been a cause for a bit of friction between Hotch and his ex-wife a few weeks ago. But she also knew that they'd talked since and Emily had hoped that meant this handoff tonight wouldn't be so strange.

Even still, this was probably the first time Haley had given her child to someone besides a relative before. So Emily tried to make her feel a little less ill at ease as she saw Haley fumbling for a writing utensil and a piece of paper.

Emily reached past her and picked up a pen and sticky pad from her desk, "here you go."

As Haley started writing out her cell and home numbers Emily pulled one of her cards out and scribbled her own home and cell numbers on the back. All the while she was very particularly ignoring the amused smirk that Dave was giving her.

Yeah buddy . . . keep dreaming. No catfight tonight.

When they were both done writing down their contact information, the two women stared at each other for a moment before they traded the little slips of paper. Emily tipped her head down towards her card, "I wasn't sure if Aaron had given you my numbers but Jack is coming to my house for dinner tonight so I thought you should have them," she looked down at Jack with a little smile, "you going to come to my house tonight buddy and have hamburgers?"

Jack grinned and nodded, "uh, huh, daddy told me they have faces!"

At Haley's raised eyebrow Emily quickly clarified, "uh, when I was little on Halloween my dad would make hamburgers and then he'd cut out little jack o'lantern faces in the cheese," she gave her a nervous smile, "it was kind of a tradition and I thought Jack would like it."

This was much more awkward than she would have thought. With Hotch Emily was used to a certain degree of autonomy in her dealings with Jack. With Haley, she felt like she needed to be running things past her. Of course, in forty five minutes the court documents said Hotch was officially the parent in charge so she really only needed to clear things with him . . . but still . . . he wasn't here right now.

Seeing the nerves on Emily's face, and hearing her describe a childhood activity, Haley suddenly felt much more at ease about this situation. Being in Aaron's office again had thrown her off, as had the idea of leaving her child with one of his people.

It was like putting Jack into the world that she had specifically spent all of these years shielding him from. But when Emily was talking she suddenly saw her as just Emily. A woman she'd once shared a drink with in a bar . . . a woman she once thought she might have been friends with, if not for the rapid deterioration of her marriage to Aaron.

Emily wasn't Agent Prentiss. She was just Aaron's friend. Though Haley was aware that her mother was an ambassador, it appeared that she was also just a regular person with regular family traditions. And she certainly had never been a cause of friction between her and Aaron when they were married.

It wasn't Emily's fault that Haley and Aaron got divorced so she shouldn't give the woman the evil eye now.

Over the past few months though it had become obvious to Haley that this woman had taken a level of prominence in her ex-husband's life that she hadn't held before. Still, Haley believed him when he said that they were just friends. So there was no reason to make Emily feel uncomfortable about tonight.

Therefore she gave her the first genuine smile of the evening as she nodded, "that sounds nice."

Not wanting to prolong their goodbye any further, Haley handed Emily Jack's backpack, "well, here you go," she stooped down and smiled at Jack, "okay sweetie you be a good boy for Miss Emily and your daddy," she kissed his cheek, "I'll see you on Sunday."

Jack nodded, "'kay mommy," and then he spontaneously threw him arms around her neck . . . getting his lollipop stuck in her hair.

As he pulled back Dave cringed as he pointed to the back of Haley's head, "uh . . . ladies."

This was a situation well beyond his expertise.

Emily saw the white stick dangling and she yelped, "GAH!" and then reached over to try to get it out before it was too tangled.

Nope . . . it was nice and wet and sticky.

She pulled out her chair, "uh Haley why don't you sit down for a second."

With a sigh Haley dropped into Emily's chair. It certainly wasn't the first time her son had accidentally put something sticky in her hair. Of course this was the most embarrassing place he'd ever done that. No . . . scratch that . . . one time they were at a Starbucks and he'd had jelly on his fingers as he gave her a hug. At least jelly simply washed out though. Right now she had a whole giant sucker hanging from her head.

And she really needed to get going!

Emily leaned down and tried to unstick the pop without leaving a bald spot.

No dice. Her nose wrinkled . . . it was starting to look like scissors might be needed.

As Emily assessed the hair situation, suddenly both women noticed the worried look on Jack's face. They simultaneously went to comfort him as they each reached out a hand.

"Sweetie it's okay."

"Baby, I'll fix it don't worry."

They tripped over each other's words and then their eyes snapped back to one another before Dave smoothly stepped in, "hey Jack why don't you come with me over to Mr. Morgan's desk, I think we can get you a new lollipop."

Dave personally wanted to be nowhere near the tension now building between the two women. And he was pretty sure Hotch would want his son out of there too. So he put his hand on Jack's back as he started discussing his superhero costume with him.

Swallowing hard, Emily went back to pulling the lollipop out of Haley's hair.

Awkward much Em . . . she chastised herself . . . you're not his mom. Just shut up while Haley's here and let her be the parent.

Her jaw twitching, Haley stared down at the floor for a moment. Okay . . . it had just become quite obvious to her that she was not ready for _any_ woman to have a prominent role as a caregiver in her son's life. She'd thought she was okay with it. Apparently not.

The theoretical was never the same as the reality.

Aaron clearly held this woman in very high regard though. So Haley was going to need to get it in gear if she didn't want to start causing friction with her ex-husband again. They'd just gotten to a point that their relationship was . . . well, almost warm. She didn't want to go back to the frosty days.

Hayley knew full well, if he had to choose between the two of them, that Emily Prentiss was clearly going to outrank her.

And . . . Haley sighed as she saw Emily walk across the room to get hot water from the kitchen . . . she _was_ a nice woman. She cared about her son, and she'd just wanted him to feel better.

Uncomfortable moment or not, that was no grounds to hate the woman's guts.

So after Emily came back over and started dunking the sticky end of the pop into the hot water and gently loosening the strands of hair, Haley cleared her throat.

"Um, thank you for this," she paused, "and uh, don't worry about before, uh . . . that is . . ." she cleared her throat again, God why was this so hard, "it's uh, okay."

Feeling relief flood her heart . . . Hotch's ex-wife didn't hate her guts . . . Emily stepped back to look at her. Then she said quietly so Jack wouldn't hear, "I am sorry though. It's just that when Aaron's around I'm used to . . ."

Haley cut her off with a shake of her head, "no, I know. That's why . . . I know. Let's just forget it," she gave her a firm nod, "okay?"

She was not going to find excuses to dislike this woman. Clearly she wasn't going anywhere, Jack adored her . . . she gave a mental eye roll . . . as did Aaron . . . so she would not jump down her throat for simply showing concern for her son being in distress. If she overstepped her bounds, then, and _only_ then would she bring it up with Aaron.

Emily nodded slowly, "okay," and she went back to pop detangling duty.

She wanted to say something else but she was afraid of sticking her foot in her mouth again. And given her intention was indeed to live happily ever after with Hotch on a full time basis, and Jack on a part time basis, foot sticking this early on with the ex-wife seemed to be a bad way to go.

Best to leave well enough alone.

At least she wouldn't have to tell Hotch that his ex hated her, though she was planning on mentioning her little faux pas to him. Jack was his child, he deserved to be aware of any potential issues that might be thrown in his face at a later date. And if, on the off chance, Haley went off on him one day and threw this incident in his face . . . Emily wanted him to at least know what the hell she was talking about.

Uneasy alliance reached, Emily was thrilled when the lollipop suddenly popped out a moment later. She grabbed a napkin out of her desk drawer and squeezed it over the lock of sopping wet hair before she stepped back.

"Okay," she exhaled, "all set."

Haley reached up to feel the patch of wet hair before turning to give Emily a little smile, "thank you. By the time I got home it would have gotten completely tangled in there. It would have taken me forever to get that out by myself," she stood up, checking her watch, "and I'm already running terribly late."

Okay . . . looks like pants might be the way to go. She'd definitely lost her window to shave her legs.

Emily nodded, "no problem," and then she almost opened her mouth to tell Jack to say goodbye to his mother. Fortunately she caught herself just as Haley said, "come give me a kiss sweetie."

As Emily watched mother and child together she gave a mental eye roll . . . she really was going to need to learn to keep her mouth shut around Haley. Not that she generally spent much time around the woman . . . she hadn't seen her in almost two years . . . but again, hoping for the happily ever after with the woman's ex. And that meant . . . conceivably . . . that the two women would occasionally run into one another.

It was important that she didn't overstep her boundaries when Haley was around. But now . . . she walked over to take Jack's hand . . . the woman was leaving and Emily was officially designated grownup in charge.

She smiled at Haley, "have a good time tonight."

All Hotch had said yesterday was that Haley had "plans" and that's why he needed to pick up Jack early today. Emily had deduced that plans meant "date." And she'd eyeballed Hotch to see if that seemed to bother him . . . Haley dating that is. But he'd appeared about as interested in that piece of information as he had when Garcia announced at the morning briefing that Kevin had given her a commemorative Papa Smurf troll for their nine month anniversary.

That was . . . he couldn't care less. And Emily had breathed a sigh of relief.

Not that she felt Hotch was still hung up on his ex-wife. He'd as much as told Emily that since she'd been in his life that he no longer missed Haley at all. That spoke volumes about his feelings for her. But that didn't mean that some part of him wasn't still upset that his former wife was going out with a new man.

Emily actually would have thought that was normal . . . understandable even. They had been married for twenty years. It must be really weird to see the person that you spent half of your life with now with someone else.

But Hotch wasn't much for artifice, so she was taking his blasé attitude at face value.

So . . . Emily waved as Haley headed for the glass doors . . . she was quite confident that the woman leaving the room was no longer any competition for Hotch's affection.

Once his mother was gone, Emily looked down at Jack with a little smile, "you ready to go to my house honey?"

Jack grinned and nodded, "uh, huh," he patted his stomach, "my belly's hungry."

Emily smiled and Rossi chuckled as he walked over to pat Jack on the head, "my belly's hungry too little man so I think I'm going to get going now." He shot a knowing look over to Emily, "you have a good time tonight."

Just as she was about to shoot him a dirty look back, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "and you did just fine."

It was obvious how nervous she was about sticking her foot in her mouth with Hotch's ex. And all things considered . . . Dave himself being the king of ugly run-ins with exes, his and other people's . . . she'd smoothed things over pretty well.

That definitely could have gone much worse.

Emily's jaw softened . . . they both knew he was talking about Haley. So she gave him a little smile as she nodded, "thanks Dave."

Just as Hotch wasn't much for artifice, Dave wasn't much for bullshit. If he'd thought she'd made a mess of things, he absolutely would have told her.

He winked at her and then continued up the stairs and down to his office to lock up.

Emily lifted Jack to her hip and jogged up the stairs to leave a quick note for Hotch before they left. As Jack stood on his tiptoes looking out the window, Emily scribbled out a few lines so Hotch would know that the handoff had gone as planned and they were heading back to her house.

When she was done she taped it to his computer and went over to take Jack's hand again, "come on hon."

They stepped back onto the landing to see that Reid had returned to his desk while they were gone. She'd left him in the parking garage because he needed to go to his car and get his costume for his party tonight. Her lips twitched as she saw that he had indeed changed into the outfit he'd been chattering about on the way back to the office.

He looked adorable.

But . . . her brow furrowed in concern . . . he looked kind of sad too.

She started down the steps with Jack, "Spencer what's wrong? Why are you back here?"

Reid looked up to see Emily coming down the stairs with . . . he squinted . . . what looked like from the pictures on his boss' desk . . . Hotch's son.

Huh.

That was unexpected. Well, either way, it was none of his business.

He shook his head slightly as he directed his attention back to Emily, "I just got a call, my party got cancelled. The host got food poisoning so . . ." he sighed, "I figured I'd come pick up some work to take home."

This totally sucked. He'd been looking forward to this party all month. Shaking his head he went back to packing up his bag.

Emily stared at him for a moment, biting her lip.

Poor thing.

She knew this was his favorite holiday. It didn't seem right to leave him here all miserable like this.

Her gaze dropped down to her little charge and she smiled. Jack was staring at Spencer with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

Apparently he liked his costume.

Jack's reverie was broken when she leaned down to whisper in his ear, "honey, that's my friend Mr. Spencer. He's sad because his party got cancelled. Do you want to invite him to come over for dinner with us tonight? He's very nice," then she added the magic words, "he's a friend of your daddy's too."

Jack looked up at her and grinned, "he's a super duper big, huge . . ."

Emily started to laugh before he could get the whole thing out, "I know he is honey. So it's okay if he has hamburgers with us?"

Jack nodded, "uh, huh and he can do pumpkins too. Pumpkins are fun so then he won't be sad."

Her eyes crinkled as she kissed his cheek, "that sounds very nice."

God, he was such a sweet little boy.

She looked back over to Reid dejectedly going through the files on his desk, "come on Spencer, you're coming to my house for dinner and pumpkin carving."

Eyes wide, Reid's head popped up, "what?" then his gaze dropped down to the little boy at her side, "uh that's okay Em I don't want to . . ."

With a roll of her eyes she reached down to hike Jack up to her hip, "no arguments, I already cleared it with Jack here," she bounced him slightly on her hip, "by the way this is Hotch's son Jack," she quickly made introductions, "Jack, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Spencer, Jack," her lip quirked up, "Jack said you can carve pumpkins with him. It'll cheer you up."

Reid's face softened as he looked back at Hotch's son and then at Emily again, "well if you really don't mind . . ." at her smile he hopped up with a grin, "okay then thanks. I didn't really want to work tonight. Let me just go change and I'll be right down."

She shook her head as she started towards the door, "no, leave it on. Jack's going to go trick or treating around the building. You can walk around with us."

Emily smiled as she saw Reid didn't even take a second to think before he hurried after her.

It was obvious how much he wanted to leave it on a bit longer.

As Reid caught up with the two of them at the door Jack reached over to pat his arm, "I like your costume Mr. Spencer."

Reid's eyes crinkled as he looked down at the little miniature Hotch, "thank you Jack. I like yours too."

They headed towards the elevators, Emily stepping back to hold the glass door open for Reid as he continued talking to Hotch's son, "I dressed up as Superman when I was six," he was quiet for a moment but then he turned to the little boy again, "you know what's really fascinating is that Superman has been such an iconic image through the ages. He was originally created back in 1934, but the first strip wasn't published until 19 . . ."

Emily let him go on for another minute as they waited at the elevator. Just as the elevator arrived though, Reid started in on the reemergence of Superman's influence at periods of strife in American history. And as they stepped onto the car she gently interrupted him with a little smile, "hon, he's only three. I don't think he's quite going to understand the geopolitical significance of Superman through the ages."

Reid's eyes dropped down to Jack leaning against Emily's shoulder and he nodded as they got onto the elevator.

"Oh, right."

Duh Spencer! God, he really needed to start reading more child psychology books. He should be better at interacting with children by now.

Seeing that Spencer looked a little embarrassed she reached over to pat his arm, "he likes to read though. And he's very smart, you can talk to him about books," seeing Reid's eyes light up, her lips twitched, "_little_ kid books."

God he was so funny. Of course when Reid was three he was probably reading Kierkegaard so she could only imagine what was going to come out of his mouth next.

Though he did end up surprising her. His brow wrinkled for a moment, and then he turned to Jack.

"What do you think about Yertle the Turtle?"

As he thought back to his own childhood Reid remembered reading Dr. Seuss at one point. He was about eighteen months old then, but if Hotch's son was reading at three, then he was probably still at that same literary level. And Yertle the Turtle was his personal favorite.

Jack's face lit up, "they burped'ded and fell down!"

Emily laughed but Reid got an identical look of excitement on his face as Jack as he exclaimed, "that's right! They did burp and fall down!"

This kid was okay!

As Spencer started to discuss the pros and cons of turtle stacking with Jack, Emily's mouth twitched as she watched the floor numbers go down.

'_Yep, these two were going to get along just fine.'_

///////

Twenty minutes later Hotch came back from his meeting to find a note taped to his laptop.

'_Haley dropped off Jack. He looks adorable! We've gone back to my place, making jack o'lantern burgers for dinner. We'll wait for you. _

_-Emily_

And as Hotch looked down at his cell phone he saw that he'd just gotten a text message too.

_Just got home. FYI: Spencer's party got cancelled so I invited him to eat with us. He looks adorable too :)_

Hotch's lips twitched as he read her last line. He could only imagine what the hell Reid was dressed as this year.

Part of Hotch's brain started to run off on a tangent of possible costumes as he began packing up his files for the weekend.

Not that he intended on working tonight but maybe . . . his brow furrowed . . . maybe what?

He sighed . . . how about maybe he could actually relax for once.

Looking back into his bag, he pulled half of the case folders back out and put them on his desk. And then he reached in and pulled out two more. That left two files and his laptop in there.

That was enough.

Even if Emily's influence had resulted in him cutting back on his daily hours, he should still make more of an effort to not work a full seven days a week.

It wasn't healthy. Besides it was time away from Emily and Jack.

And with that thought in mind he hit his lights and headed out.

////////

With the fries now in the oven, the burgers cooking on a low heat, and the cheese faces prepared, Emily went over to lean on the breakfast bar.

A huge grin spread across her face as she watched Spencer and Jack watching The Great Pumpkin. When she realized Hotch was going to have Jack for Halloween she'd rented the DVD for him. Not realizing at the time that she was going to have two 'kids' at her house.

Amazingly it had turned out that Reid had never seen this particular Charlie Brown classic. So the two of them were now sitting on the floor . . . still in their costumes . . . staring at the television with rapt attention.

She had to take a picture.

Just as she was about to run upstairs to get her camera she heard a knock at the door and her eyes lit up.

Hotch.

Between his meetings and her interviews, she hadn't seen him once today. And as she checked the clock she saw it was barely six fifteen. He must have gotten out of his briefing pretty shortly after they left.

She went over to the door and checked the peephole . . . sure enough.

But rather than opening the door to let him in, to his clear surprise she opened the door and slipped out into the hall.

"Hi!" she greeted him enthusiastically as she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a big hug, "I missed you today."

It was silly given that it had been only twenty four hours, but she had indeed missed him. She now spent eighty to ninety percent of her work and personal time with Hotch, so his complete absence from her day was quite noticeable.

Hotch's lips twitched as he hugged her back, "I missed you too," he kissed her cheek, "and this is a very nice greeting, but am I not allowed inside tonight?" he rubbed her back as he teased, "have you and Reid decided to run off and raise my son as your own?"

Emily's eyes sparkled as she leaned back to look at him.

"Yes, you are allowed inside. I just haven't seen you since yesterday. And I can't give you a hug in front of Spencer so I figured I'd get my hug in now." As she said Spencer's name a thought occurred to her and her smile fell away as she asked him worriedly, "you don't mind that I invited Reid over do you? I suppose I should have asked but it's just that he looked so sad when his party got cancelled and you know how much he loves Halloween so . . ."

Hotch cut her off with a smile, "it's fine Emily. I have no problem at all with Jack spending time with the team," his nose wrinkled, "my only reservation about that is that I have so little time with him that I don't generally want to share him on the weekends."

Her face fell, "oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think of that."

That was stupid Emily. Of course he doesn't want to share what little time he has with his son. You definitely should have asked first.

She looked over at the door sadly. All of her plans for the evening were going up in smoke.

"Well, I suppose you could take Jack to your place and then I guess I could maybe see you guys tomor . . ."

This time Hotch cut her off with a kiss on the nose. When she looked up at him in distress his eyes crinkled before he leaned down to pull her into another hug.

"Don't be silly. I would never take Jack and leave you Emily," he rubbed her back, "I didn't mean that at all. I just meant that you know regular weekend plans, I'm not likely to be up for an all day team barbecue or something," he turned his head to kiss her cheek, "but I think it's nice that you invited him over tonight. I know what a big deal this holiday is to him, and I think it's fun for Jack to have somebody else here that also gets a kick out of dressing up," he leaned back so he could look down at her, "it makes it more festive for him."

As though he would have gone off and left her tonight! Not only would the thought never even have crossed his mind, but also, he knew how excited she was about Jack being over for Halloween. She'd been talking about it for the last three days.

It would have broken her heart if he took his son away. And upsetting her like that was unthinkable. Not to mention that he and Jack both had been looking forward to coming over to her place all week!

Her eyes brightened, "so you're not mad?"

He shook his head as a small smile touched his lips, "no sweet . . . Emily, I'm most definitely not mad."

God he kept doing that! Starting to call her sweetheart. It started after Chicago. He did it once and now he couldn't stop. Tuesday he started to do it in a briefing. He ended up pretending like he was sarcastically directing his remarks to Dave instead.

Dave of course responded with an "okay, sweetcheeks I'll see what I can do."

The whole team had cracked up.

But Emily . . . the only one who'd known he'd been intending his address for her . . . actually shot coffee out of her nose she laughed so hard. Then he broke the meeting to take her down to the infirmary to make sure she hadn't burned her nasal passages.

It was a messy morning.

And he could see from the way Emily's eyes were twinkling now that she was remembering that moment. She reached up to touch his cheek as she said gently.

"You know it's okay if you call me sweetheart. I call you honey sometimes. It's just a term of endearment."

Granted she had started to do it a bit more often since her realization of last week. But hers was easier to cover because she also called Jack honey, and on the rare occasion Spencer was, "hon."

Also, women in general could get away with it without it automatically being condescending or worst case in the office . . . sexual harassment.

And as a completely selfish side note, she LOVED it when he called her sweetheart! He didn't do that with anyone else.

That was just for her.

And that gave her hope that they'd figure this whole thing out sooner, _rather_ than later.

He rolled his eyes, "I know that but I can't get in the habit of it. You saw what happened this week! I'll start to do it at work and God knows I can't keep redirecting my sweetheart comments to Dave," he raised his eyebrow, "he'll start to get the wrong idea."

Her mouth quivered, "I think you're okay. You know he likes blondes."

They stared at each other for a moment and then Hotch snorted as she started to chuckle. She patted his back, "okay, let's get inside before the fries burn," she shot him a look, "and be nice about Reid's costume. He's very proud of it."

He gave her a firm nod, "I promise I will be nice," he tipped his head down, "you sure you don't want to give me a hint though?"

She had to know that an awkward gaping pause wasn't going to do much for the kid's self esteem.

Emily just laughed as she moved to push the door open.

"No, trust me. You have to see it for yourself."

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I would have put this up earlier but the site was randomly deleting stories and putting them back up only to delete them again. I really didn't want to expose Girl to whatever the hell was going on there. If Girl ever gets deleted from the site, we're all done here! Full stop, that would be the end of things because I'm not going to repost 100 plus chapters. _

_I knew I'd been neglecting Reid in all of my stories so I decided to let him come over for Halloween. I realized that in The Hours I never really addressed his feelings/speculations about H/P and when their relationship began. So he was a nice fresh face to pull into the mix. _

_I've also been neglecting Garcia but I have also attempted to rectify that. I have a one shot with her and Derek all sketched out based on one of the new prompts. That should be up this week._

_And like I said, there will be a continuation of this evening. I only have a little bit of it written though but I'll try and finish it up in the next day or so. I have decided to put Mirror slightly to the side and focus on Girl this week. I want to get us rolling forward a little bit more because I do have at least a half dozen November chapters all lined up, I just have to get to them. The good thing is though, with the exception of the latter half of the evening, I do have the rest of the weekend events already written. The next morning is Hotch's big revelatory chapter and that actually came to me simultaneous with this part of the weekend so I've been working on them simultaneously. So I'm hoping to get two more chapters up here within the week._

_Jack o'lantern burgers are a real thing. In my family anyway :) And my dad always made them for us. Without fail, even as adults to this day, we still have them every Halloween for dinner. You just take the piece of cheese, carve out the little pumpkin face like you would on the pumpkin itself and put it on the burger. It's cute!_

_Any guesses on Reid's costume? You'll notice I have yet to describe it any way beyond Jack's "Super duper big huge . . ." _

_Hint, "Gob" :)_


	112. Superman, Michael Myers & Great Pumpkin

**Author's Note**: Continuation of the last chapter. Immediately picking up from Hotch walking through the door.

**Again, my little side note I'm putting on all my active stories to catch everyone**. In the midst of my technical difficulties the past few weeks, I lost a few reviews I was responding to. In that I already had the review response window open and the thing crashed or (in one instance) was rebooted by the Comcast man, and they all went bye bye. That was perhaps as many as a half dozen. So, if you took the time to write me a review and I never got back to you, that is most likely the reason. Because with the exception of one girl who I specifically had in my head, I couldn't figure out who got lost in the shuffle. So a general thank you :) and if you had a question about something that I hadn't answered please shoot me a note and I'll be happy to respond.

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_Late October: Friday_

**Superman, Michael Myers & the Great Pumpkin**

Hotch stepped across Emily's threshold and stopped to stare at what was before him. His face was soft as he turned to look back at her.

"You did all of this for Jack?"

At her shy smile Hotch forgot for a moment that Reid was only across the room. He put his hand on her hip as he kissed her on the cheek and whispered, "thank you Emily."

He smiled as he saw the faint blush touch her cheeks as she locked the door and then slipped passed him to go back to her dinner. He turned, his eyes tracking over the room once more as he whispered as much to himself as to her.

"This is wonderful."

Her entire downstairs was decorated for Halloween. And it was truly amazing how much care she'd put into his son's visit. Cobwebs and giant plastic spiders were hanging from the ceiling, and there were cutouts of ghosts and pumpkins on the walls. Also there were jack o'lanterns on the breakfast bar that there were already decorated. And lastly there were three plain pumpkins sitting on the coffee table waiting to be carved.

And what was really great was that everything was little boy friendly. The spiders and the ghosts all had googly eyes so they weren't scary.

It was astounding that she did all of this just for him.

Hotch followed Emily into the kitchen and glided his hand down her back. He really didn't mind at all that Reid was over, but this was one moment where he very much wished for their usual privacy. He had become accustomed to expressing his affection for her whenever he wanted to, and it was a little hard to do that when they were back on 'hands to yourself' rules.

Then Hotch looked over to the living room and realized he could only see Reid's feet. He was lying down watching television.

So Hotch figured that if Reid wasn't out here right now, then he might as well take advantage of the few seconds of semi-privacy. And with that thought in mind, Hotch slipped his arm around Emily's waist as he surveyed their meal.

The aroma of the burgers filled the air and his eyes crinkled as he saw the slices of cheese carved up like jack o'lantern faces already lined up on the cutting board.

He looked down at her with a little smile, "your dad?"

She smiled, "yep."

As she thought back, she couldn't recall one Halloween that her father wasn't there. In his mind that was a holiday that ranked only behind Christmas in terms of family importance.

Of course he never missed a Christmas either. He might have shown up after midnight on Christmas Day and have disappeared that same night, but he was always there for presents in the morning. Just like he was always there to help her put on her costume on Halloween. Often the only trick or treating she got to do was around the embassy but her father just wanted her to have as much normality as possible. And back home that's what she would have done around in an American neighborhood, so he made sure he brought a little bit of home with them everywhere.

God she missed her dad . . . she blinked away the moisture in her eyes . . . she really should try to meet him for dinner next week.

Hotch squeezed her waist, "well everything looks absolutely perfect. Thank you again for doing this."

Feeling her face starting to get warm at his praise, Emily made a show of turning down the burner as she responded, "well it was always my favorite holiday so I thought it would be fun to see if I could recreate that vibe I had as a kid."

After looking back around the room at the decorations, Hotch's gaze dropped back to her.

"And did you?"

Her lip quirked up slightly, "I think so, yeah," she smiled, "I mean it was a fun thing to do because of Jack," she huffed, "and, as it turned out, Spencer too. Speaking of which . . ." she projected her voice across the room, "hey, you boys ready to eat?"

The overlapping, unenthusiastic responses of "yes Emily," and "yes, Miss Emily" floated back across the room. But neither of them made any move to get off the floor.

Emily rolled her eyes at Hotch, "I really should have waited to put the movie in."

She decided to give them another minute with the Great Pumpkin as she went over to the counter to put the cheese on the burgers. She hadn't wanted to do it any earlier or the little jack o'lantern faces would just be little mushy faces.

Hotch chuckled as he walked over to Emily's gun cabinet to punch in the lock. Seeing Emily's sig and Reid's revolver already inside warmed his heart.

Emily had no small children but because of Jack she was diligent about making sure the weapons were locked up as soon as they walked in the door with them.

It showed him again how much she loved his son.

As he was shutting the gun cabinet, Hotch heard Emily taking another tactic to get the attention of the younger members of their dining party.

"Daddy's here!"

Both Jack and Reid's heads popped up from behind the coffee table.

One face was bursting with excitement . . . the other one cringing in horror . . . and Emily immediately clarified, "oh, sorry Spencer. Not your daddy."

She'd told Reid in the car that Hotch and his son were having dinner at her house that night and Spencer hadn't batted an eyelash at it. Apparently though he'd zoned out enough watching television that he'd forgotten Hotch was coming.

Reid let out a sigh of relief as he used the coffee table to push himself up, "oh thank you God. You scared the sh . . ." he looked over to his new little friend who was bounding up off the floor, "shheck out of me."

Emily smiled approvingly at Reid's censoring of his language in front of little ears. And then she laughed out loud as Jack made the same flying leap into Hotch's arms as he did to her at work.

"I CAN FLY DADDY!"

Hotch started laughing as he gave Jack a kiss and a hug before putting him on his hip and looking across the room at his youngest agent.

A six foot one inch tall man child with an IQ of 175.

He was dressed as a giant banana.

Emily was right . . . Hotch's mouth started to twitch . . . he really was adorable. Though of course Hotch would take that opinion to his grave.

Reid could see Hotch assessing his costume and he started to feel a little self conscious. He went out of his way to not make Hotch think he was a spaz and here he was dressed up as something from a fruit bowl.

He stammered slightly, "uh Hotch, I hope you don't mind me being here."

Hotch smiled softly, "Reid, it's Emily's house, I'm a guest here too," he tipped his head approvingly towards his costume, "that said, I'm very glad you could join us for dinner."

Jack piped up excitedly from Hotch's side, "Mr. Spencer's a banana!"

Hotch's lips twitched, "I can see that," finally he chuckled, "and a very authentic looking banana at that."

Perhaps it was because he was so tall and thin but it really did work for him.

Emily called over from the counter, "boys go wash your hands please."

After Hotch put Jack on the ground, he and Reid trudged to the downstairs bathroom. Reid had to stoop down for his banana peel head to the clear the doorway. Hotch looked at him and then over at Emily.

"How did you . . .?"

Anticipating his question, Emily chuckled as she transferred the bag o'salad into a large bowl, "with great difficulty. He had to sit in back with Jack," she started to giggle, "I shut the door on one of his skins and almost peeled him!"

Hotch laughed as he went over to the cabinet to get the plates, "well good thing you didn't. I'm sure that would have been a pretty traumatic scene for everyone."

Emily huffed as she began preparing the two plates of food for her youngest guests. She'd certainly eaten enough meals with Spencer on the road to know how he ate his cheeseburgers so she added two slices of pickle and a squirt each of mustard and ketchup to the top of the bun.

It seemed a shame to put the topper on yet, it would cover the little face, so she figured she'd let him do that part.

After Jack and Spencer came back out of the bathroom, she handed Reid the two plates filled with burgers, fries and salad.

Her lip quirked up as she saw him tip his head back towards the living room and Jack followed along behind like he was the Pied Piper.

She wasn't sure if it was the banana costume, or Reid's encyclopedic knowledge of all things Dr. Seuss, but Jack had really taken a shine to him. Of course . . . her eyes crinkled as she saw them settling down on the floor with their plates . . . Reid was a sweet soul and children always responded to that.

And Reid . . . though he was generally a little awkward around new people . . . children included, he'd really taken well to Jack for some reason. Perhaps because he wasn't a typical little boy. Jack was well behaved and conversational and really smart as a whip.

Perhaps not a genius on the level that Reid was, but somehow the two of them had still made a connection.

As though he could read her mind Hotch said quietly from beside her, "they seem to be getting along well."

Hotch's face softened as he saw Spencer helping Jack put his burger together, explaining to him about the history of carving faces on pumpkins.

Emily turned to him with a smile, "yeah, they've been really cute together since we left the office," she winked at Hotch, "I think we've finally found somebody who is Reid's intellectual match."

Hotch chuckled, and even though he knew she was joking, he still felt a slight burst of parental pride. He did have a smart boy. And apparently he was holding the attention of a man with an IQ greater than that of most nuclear physicists.

That was pretty impressive.

Reid finished squishing Jack's burger together for him and then looked up as he heard the little boy's father laugh. Spencer couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Hotch look so relaxed and happy.

Well, actually . . . he started putting his own burger together . . . there was Emily's birthday party. He was in a really good mood that night too. Joking and laughing and playing host for her birthday gathering.

It was a different side of Hotch.

One that hadn't really made much of an appearance over the past few years. But Emily was a good influence on everyone. It really was hard not to be in a good mood when she was around. And since the two of them had become friends over the summer . . . after their situation with Cyrus actually . . . it appeared that off duty at least, Emily now could get Hotch to interact with her as casually as Morgan or Reid himself might.

Good for her.

It really was nice to see Hotch happy. There were numerous studies linking high blood pressure and job stress with shortened life spans. Anything that could lower his boss' BP and his stress levels was a plus. Reid didn't know what he would do if something happened to Hotch. Or any of them really.

Next to his mom, they really were all the family he had.

He smiled at Emily as she and Hotch came over to the table with their plates. Em was kind of like his surrogate mom given that his own was so far away. And well, crazy. But Em looked after him, and was patient with him and his occasional social flubs in a way that the others always weren't.

Not that he would ever tell her the mom analogy. Reid might not be the ladies man that Derek was, but he was just cognizant enough of the inner machinations of the female brain to know that given her age, Emily wouldn't appreciate the "surrogate mom" moniker.

If questioned . . . he chomped another bite of his burger . . . he definitely would go with big sister.

/////////

Once dinner was finished, the adults efficiently divided their duties. Reid volunteered to clean up the mess, Emily volunteered to clean up Jack and Hotch took one look at Emily's fluttering eyelashes and rolled up his sleeves to gut the pumpkins. After the mush had been transferred to the trash, the pumpkins themselves were transferred to the coffee table.

Hotch smiled as he sat down next to Emily on the couch. Jack was sitting in her lap as the two of them watched Charlie Brown.

It was the second full viewing since they'd arrived at her condo.

Seeing Spencer was otherwise detained loading the dishwasher, Hotch quickly squeezed her knee before he settled back on the sofa and watched the cartoon with them. He really wanted to go change his clothes but it wouldn't do for Reid to know that he had clothes at Emily's place.

It was one thing for the kid to see Emily invite him and his son over to her house for dinner on a Friday night. It was another thing entirely if he saw them _that_ cozy.

That was the part of their relationship that they kept private. JJ was privy to some of it now, but that was it. And that was going to be the way it remained for the foreseeable future.

It couldn't be common knowledge among the team that they slept at each other's homes and shared clothes.

Hearing the dishwasher begin to spray Emily knew Reid was done cleaning up. So she called over her shoulder as she patted the empty space next to her on the couch.

"Come on Spencer, time to do pumpkins. You get the end one."

Reid wiped his hands on the dishtowel before he came into the living room and looked down at the three pumpkins on the table. And then he remembered that he was the fourth wheel here. Clearly she'd planned on just Hotch and his son being over for dinner so there was one pumpkin for each of them.

So as he sat down on the couch Reid dismissively shook his head, "oh no, that's okay. I'll just watch."

Turning slightly, Hotch peered past Emily and Jack to give Reid a little smile, "it's fine Reid. Jack's too little to use the knife so I'm going to help him. You take the third pumpkin. It'll save me having to cut up two of them."

Seeing Spencer's big brain contemplating that offer, Hotch decided to sweeten the pot, "I'll even let you put it on your desk," Emily discretely cleared her throat and Hotch quickly added, "well, for a couple days anyway."

Three months ago Reid had left a turkey sandwich in his desk drawer before they left for a case. By the time they got home four days later, he'd forgotten about it.

The genius thing let them all down that week.

Another weekend went by. And there was no air conditioning on the weekends, just vents.

And it was the middle of August.

By that Monday the bullpen started to have that sickening sweet odor of rotting flesh.

A smell they were intimately familiar with from work, but fortunately that was not actually something they were used to having to cope with in the office.

It had permeated everywhere so they couldn't even narrow it down to the offending object.

JJ called maintenance to come look for a dead mouse. They started popping the ceiling tiles.

Finally Emily had a brilliant idea. She called a friend of hers in search and rescue. The woman came over with a decay sniffing German shepherd named Larry. Larry had tracked down the odor to Reid's rarely used bottom drawer filing cabinet in two minutes flat.

At the moment of discovery he vividly remembered sticking the sandwich in there because somebody had stolen his lunch from the fridge the day before they left for Austin.

His response as the oozing poultry was removed from his desk by the Hazmat crew.

"Uh, sorry guys."

So Emily was right. Best not to encourage Reid's long term possession of perishables in the work place.

Reid's eyes lit up as he nodded, "okay then. I guess I would like to do a pumpkin."

He'd actually love to do a pumpkin and he looked over at Emily hopefully, "you don't happen to have a protractor do you? I like to make sure my eyes are symmetrical."

Emily's lips twitched as she shot a quick look at Hotch, "uh no, sorry Spencer, I don't have a protractor. But here," she picked up a sharpie from the coffee table, "you can sketch out your face first."

Reid took the writing implement and Emily turned to Jack with a smile as she picked up the next big black marker from the package.

"Okay, honey, let's get started."

/////////

After pumpkin carving was complete . . . Reid's pumpkin eyes were of course perfect triangles even done free hand . . . they got ready for trick or treating. Emily had bought a little orange pumpkin pail for Jack to carry his candy. And as Hotch checked a text message from work, out of the corner of his eye he saw Emily kneeling down on the floor smiling at Jack as she fixed his costume. Then she kissed his cheek and handed him the pail.

Suddenly Hotch's heart ached for her. She'd make such a good mother. She deserved that. Maybe next week he'd ask her about it again. There had been no discussion of babies since the unfortunate trip to the clinic. And she'd been so sad that afternoon that Hotch hadn't wanted to bring it up again.

But he'd promised to support her on this issue so maybe she just needed another little nudge.

As she stood up Hotch winked at her and she winked back. Feeling a warmth in his chest, Hotch looked over at Reid fixing his peels, and then Jack hopping up and down excitedly.

He clapped hands.

"Okay, who's ready to go trick or treating?"

/////////

They were out for nearly an hour working their way up and down the floors of Emily's building. Jack made quite a haul from the neighbors and even Reid came back with some Snickers bars stuck in his peels.

Everyone liked his costume.

As they arrived back at Emily's apartment Reid decided he didn't want to overstay his welcome. He'd already been with them for close to three hours. It was incredibly nice of Emily and Hotch to include him in all of their activities tonight, but they were clearly planning on it just being the three of them.

So as they walked back into her apartment he feigned receiving a call on his phone. Fortunately he'd put it on vibrate earlier when he'd jammed it into one of his side peels.

In his fake, one sided phone conversation Reid gave Emily's address so that his friend could come pick him up.

He was particularly proud that he thought to add that bit. He might have been a genius but he really wasn't a very good liar.

And Hotch and Emily were trained to spot liars.

So he knew that they would have immediately noticed his fumble if they offered to give him a ride and he'd tried to stammer out a response to them then. If they suspected he was catching a cab back to the Academy to pick up his car they'd insist on driving him. And he most definitely did not want to be a bother to anyone. They both looked kind of tired, Hotch especially, and Reid wasn't going to put them out on his account.

So after he hung up the phone he made an immediate beeline towards the door.

"Hey guys, thanks so much for tonight but I'm going to take off now and go meet my friend."

Emily put down the mixed bag of candy she was switching out for Jack's trick or treat goodies and went over to give Reid a hug goodbye. She pulled him down so she could wrap her arms around his neck and then she turned to kiss his cheek, "you be good and call me if you need a ride."

Reid smiled . . . and that's why she was his mom.

He nodded, "thanks Em. I think I'll be okay though."

Hotch walked over to shake his hand, "well don't hesitate to call either of us if you do need to get picked up."

Trying to hide his smile Reid tipped his head, "thanks Hotch."

And that's why Hotch was _everyone's_ mom.

Jack came racing in from the living room and grabbed Reid's leg, "bye bye Mr. Spencer!"

Unaccustomed to that degree of enthusiastic affection from anyone, it took Reid a moment to react to the unexpected hug. But then his features softened as he patted Jack's shoulder, "good night Jack. It was very nice meeting you," he looked over Jack's head to his father, "he's really quite intelligent sir."

With a little smile, Hotch nodded, "thank you Spencer."

Huh . . . he huffed slightly to himself. Maybe Emily was right. They had finally found someone who was Reid's intellectual match.

As Reid stepped into the hall, Emily smiled, "have a good time tonight. Give me a call this weekend and you can come pick up your revolver and your pumpkin." Reid nodded his thanks and she waved as she shut the door.

Spencer stared at that closed red door longingly for almost a minute, wishing that family vibe he got in there was something he could have all the time. Hotch and Emily together were like having regular parents. It was fun. Nice.

Then he shook his head to clear his ridiculous fantasies . . . his mom always said if wishes were horses she'd be riding Black Beauty instead of popping anti-psychotics.

And with that thought he turned and headed towards the elevator. There was a Eureka marathon on tonight. He could make a list of all the scientific inaccuracies in each episode.

That would be fun.

/////////

It ended up being that Reid said his goodbyes about fifteen minutes before Jack started to crash. Jack's normal bedtime was eight o'clock but Hotch was going to let him stay up until eight thirty because it was a special day. But by then he was curled up in Emily's lap, his eyelashes fluttering as he tried to stay awake.

Hotch smiled as he walked in from the kitchen to see Emily kissing Jack's forehead and murmuring something in his ear. And then he felt a twinge of sadness as he realized that Jack needed to go to bed. After putting her diet coke down on the table he sighed, "well, I guess we should get going."

He really didn't want to leave. The night was still early, and he hadn't seen Emily all day.

Emily's face fell, "oh no, Aaron, please don't go," she brushed her fingers through Jack's hair as she gave Hotch her best pout, "couldn't you guys stay over tonight? You know I have the spare room for Superman."

Hotch was immediately on board with this idea. Though he pretended to give it some thought before he raised his eyebrow mischievously, "and if Superman is taking my regular bed, where pray tell am I going to sleep?"

He actually couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed in the spare room when he slept over. He usually just bunked with her now.

Emily's lips twitched, "well, I could probably be persuaded to slide over a little and make room for you down the hall in the big bed."

His eyebrow went up even further as he stepped closer to them on the couch, "the big bed, huh," he leaned down and slipped his arms around his son, "well, perhaps then _I_ could be persuaded to accept those alternative sleeping arrangements." He stood up, holding Jack protectively to his body before he winked at her and headed for the stairs.

Emily watched him go with a little smirk before she turned back to the television. A second later she brought her hand to her chest.

The backs of his fingers had grazed her breast when he picked Jack up.

There was a time when that was an action that would have barely caught her attention. Now she was acutely aware whenever he strayed up high or down low. Of course he was much more careful about down low, well, in the front at least. Though sometimes she woke up with his hand resting just south of her hip.

Not that it ever went lower than that . . . even in his sleep Aaron Hotchner was a gentleman . . . but she now noticed those things in a way that she hadn't before. She figured it was because her feelings for him were new. Or perhaps her feelings weren't new, but her awareness of them was. And therefore her awareness of HIM was.

She was going on the assumption that the little tingles those touches brought would go away soon. At least she hoped they would.

Hell, she enjoyed a good tingle as much as the next girl, but given their generally close quarters, those stray touches and resulting tingles, which were now fun and exciting, eventually had the potential to become VERY distracting. Distracting in a way that six months from now might be quite wonderful, but for the foreseeable future, could just be downright frustrating.

In the meantime though . . . she grinned at him as he came back down the stairs . . . she was just going to go with the flow.

Her lip quirked up, "is he still sleeping?"

Hotch nodded as he dropped down next to her on the couch, "yep," he tipped his head, "well, he woke up for a second when I tried to undress him but then I realized his costume was practically pajamas anyway so I decided to let him sleep in it," he rolled his neck, "but please remind me to get Mr. Bobo out of his backpack for when we go upstairs," he huffed, "if he wakes up looking for him we're definitely going to hear about it."

Emily nodded as she leaned over to pick up her diet coke, "got it. Mr. Bobo needs to go upstairs."

She tipped her head onto his shoulder and then he looked down at her, "so now that you have me all to yourself Agent Prentiss. What shall we do for the rest of the evening?"

A half dozen images immediately flashed through Emily's head. And as she started to feel a little flush on her face, she kept her mouth shut for a moment as she took another drink.

But unfortunately for her the color in her cheeks clearly caught Hotch's attention because he started to laugh.

"You're blushing!" He tweaked her side, "Emily Rose Prentiss, are you thinking dirty thoughts right now?"

This was hilarious! Usually he was the one who got smacked for the waggled eyebrows.

Emily jumped slightly, almost spilling her coke as she indignantly responded, "I am not blushing! I'm just a little warm."

That was crap. She was actually a little chilly . . . which Hotch was kind enough to point out a second later.

"You're wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cotton pants, plus you're drinking a cold drink filled with ice. How could you _possibly_ be warm?"

She was such a bad liar. Though it was cute that she tried. And he could see her about to get even more flustered about the whole thing. He didn't want her to actually get uncomfortable so he let her off the hook as he gave her a little smile and smoothly changed the subject.

"How about we just watch a movie?"

Her eyes lit up in relief, "yes, a movie!"

Thank you, thank you thank you, you sweet wonderful man for changing the subject! That's the last thing she needed, for Hotch to notice that she occasionally was getting a bit hot and bothered when he touched her. Or she thought about him touching her.

But enough about that for now. It was just an occasional thing.

She put her glass down on the table before turning to him with a little pout, "can we watch _Halloween_?"

This might be a hard sell. Horror wasn't exactly his favorite genre.

Her dirty thoughts now forgotten, Hotch rolled his eyes, about to tell her no. She knew how much he hated slasher movies.

Then he remembered that it was indeed Halloween. A night when traditionally people did engage in rituals designed to scare themselves. Maybe that was something she'd always done before and was just looking to continue the tradition with him this year.

But beyond just that, most importantly he remembered that she had given his son an exceptional evening. If this was all she was asking in return how could he possibly turn her down?

So instead of the scowl he gave her a little smile, "I suppose we could do that."

"Yay!" Emily grinned as she bounded up off of the couch and went over to the video cabinet, "you know there's very little blood or violence in the original movie," she looked over at him as she popped the movie out of its sleeve, "it's mainly the music and his mask that makes it all creepy."

Before she joined the BAU Emily used to enjoy horror films more than she did now. Not slasher films really, she'd never enjoyed mindless violence. And certainly not mindless, exploitative violence mainly aimed at women. No, she just liked the occasional good scare.

But the BAU provided plenty of good scares on its own. So her old horror movie collection . . . mostly classics from the sixties, seventies and early eighties . . . was gathering dust.

Occasionally she still broke one out. If she was in the mood, and . . . she eyed Hotch as she hit play on the video . . . she had somebody to cuddle with while she watched them.

Then they were fun.

And the man across the room was her absolute favorite person to have fun with now. So in addition to Jaws earlier this month, she'd also gotten Hotch to cuddle with her as they watched Psycho and The Birds.

Hitchcock . . . though scary . . . fell into a different category, so those were easier sells.

As the DVD menu flashed on the screen Emily handed Hotch the remote and she went into the kitchen to fill up the chip bowl and grab some of the mini candy bars out of the little plastic pumpkin on the counter.

She'd switched out Jack's 'stranger danger' candy with a couple of bags that Hotch had bought earlier in the week. She had to agree with the boy's father, it was the experience that was fun but there was no way they were letting him eat candy that strangers gave to him.

Not given what they knew about the inner workings of the mind of the average 'guy next door.'

After taking three steps towards the living room, Emily turned around, dumped the candy bars back into the pumpkin and just picked the whole thing up by the handle.

What the hell was she thinking? It was Halloween, if you didn't stuff yourself with sugar until you threw up what was the point of the holiday at all?

Hotch chuckled as he saw Emily come back into the room with essentially a bowl of sugar and a bowl of grease. He raised his eyebrow in amusement, "hungry?"

She gave him a sheepish grin, "you can't watch scary movies without snacks, besides," she gestured to the chip bowl, "that one's for you."

His lips twitched, "so you weren't going to have any potato chips at all?"

Wait for it . . .

Emily tipped her head as she said slowly, "well . . . it would be rude to let you eat alone."

And there you go.

He huffed to himself as she turned and headed off to the bathroom.

When Emily came out she went over to hit the overhead lights and check the lock on the door.

She left only the small light over the sink on, between that and the television they had more than enough illumination to see across the open space. Once the house was secure she came back over to the couch.

Hotch was lying down staring at the screen as he went through the special features offered. When he saw she was back he smiled and lifted his arm up so she could climb on top of him.

Once she was situated he reached over to pull the coffee table closer. He knew her, in ten minutes she'd be poking him in the ribs as she contorted herself trying to reach the mini Reese's cups. Best to save himself the bruising and just line everything up for her now.

All he could hope for was that she wouldn't wipe her fingers on his t-shirt.

But given that he got this shirt . . . his shirt . . . off of _her_ laundry pile on the dresser . . . it was unlikely he was going to be allowed to take it home with him anyway.

It was another one that Emily had usurped . . . he hit play on the movie . . . it was kind of cute actually.

Everything was much too big for her.

Emily rested her head right over Hotch's heart, listening to the familiar rhythmic thump in one ear as the creepy Michael Myers theme music filled the other.

This is why she liked to watch the occasional horror movie with him. She could be frightened, but at the same time she knew Hotch was right here with her so really . . . everything was just fine.

They didn't have that degree of comfort out in the real world. Even when he was right there with her, things weren't usually fine at all.

Often they were so far from fine that it wasn't even funny.

Feeling Emily start to tense up as Michael began to stalk the babysitters, Hotch slowly rubbed his hand up and down her back. His eyes crinkled slightly as she sighed and settled back against him.

He knew that always relaxed her.

The sun hadn't even set yet in Haddonfield before Hotch suddenly felt Emily burrowing her hand up and under his t-shirt. He chuckled as he felt her cold fingers touching his abdomen.

Emily didn't even acknowledge the laughter. She just murmured matter of factly, "my hands are cold," before rolling them over so that the back of her knuckles were then pressed against his warm skin.

"I'm not a campfire you know," came Hotch's amused reply to her hand rolling activity.

When there was no further response from Emily beyond another roll of her digits, Hotch huffed and reached up to the back of the couch, pulling down the blanket he'd put there while she was in the bathroom.

He'd known they would need it, but for the sake of her pride . . . pretending that she was warm to cover her earlier embarrassment . . . he'd left it up there a little longer than he usually would have.

Usually he covered her up immediately.

Sometimes he was convinced that her personal body temperature thermostat was broken. He'd even gone so far as to tell her jokingly that she should mention it to her doctor.

But, the joke was on him.

She just had a checkup last week and she had indeed mentioned her uncommon chilliness and he told her it was completely normal. Her blood panel had come back just fine.

There was nothing wrong with her at all.

Which . . . though Hotch had been only half serious about her thermostat issues . . . was still a relief. God knows he didn't want her to actually be sick. So he was very happy to hear that the doctor said her chills were normal.

Besides . . . he tucked the fleece around her shoulders as he wrapped his legs around hers . . . he liked keeping her warm.

It was part of his job. Well, not his real job of course.

His Emily job.

Comfort her when she was sad, take care of her when she was sick, listen to her problems, warm her up when she was cold . . . generally just make sure that she was happy.

And he took those responsibilities about as seriously as the ones he got paid to perform.

So he really had no problem with her cold fingers pressing against his stomach. But now that she was covered he hoped the chills would go away.

He kissed the top of her head before he whispered, "warm enough now."

Her eyes crinkled as her hands stilled their movement under his shirt, "yeah, I think so. But I think I should leave my hands where they are for now," she tipped her head back to look at him, "you know just in case they get cold again."

His lips twitched, "well it is important to plan ahead."

God she was cute.

With a twinkle in her eye she nodded firmly as her head dropped back down and she rubbed his stomach, "that was my thought exactly."

They settled in to watch the movie again and as Michael broke into the neighbor's house Emily sighed into Hotch's chest.

This was definitely the best Halloween she'd ever had.

/////////

A few hours later Hotch went in to tuck in Mr. Bobo, and of course check on Jack again, before he went down the hall to Emily's bedroom.

A smile crossed his lips when he came in to see her sitting up in bed putting on her hand cream.

It was such a feminine activity . . . it was odd but he felt privileged to be allowed back into a woman's life like that. She smiled at him as he walked passed her into the bathroom.

"He okay?"

Hotch called back, "yeah, and I was able to get his cape off without waking him up," he came back out, talking around his toothbrush, "I was afraid he'd get it tangled up around his neck in his sleep."

Emily's brow furrowed slightly as she nodded, "good thinking."

God, that hadn't occurred to her, he could have gotten it wrapped around his neck. She shivered involuntarily at the thought of it as she looked back at the open bathroom door Hotch had just gone back into. Then she shook her head to shake the image from her mind as she flipped on the TV.

Now that they were going to bed she just wanted something to leave on as background noise.

The scary movies were fine when they were downstairs and wide awake. But she really didn't want to go to sleep with a horror movie playing.

But of course she couldn't find anything to watch. She flipped past a zombie movie, a _Friday the 13__th_, the original _Candyman_, some disturbing leprechaun movie, that old creepy _Children of the Corn_ . . . and _Aliens_.

Rolling her eyes she shot a look up to the ceiling . . . uh yeah God, how about something that's _not_ going to permeate my dreams and make them into nightmares?

She'd found . . . after accidentally falling asleep one night with a slasher movie marathon on . . . that fake horror movie details easily morphed and blended with the real life horrors of her job. And when that happened, her nightmares were horrifically vivid and borderline traumatizing.

Jason in his hockey mask forcing her to eat her own fingers. And then of course Michael Myers showing up with a pear of anguish and . . . well . . . that was very bad.

THAT was not another dream she wished to have in this lifetime.

And preventing that dream from happening again was one of the reasons she had specifically wanted to watch _Halloween_ with Hotch. She hoped that the comfort of having him with her might stay in her memory the next time that nightmare tried to creep into the rotation.

She changed the channel again and _The Corpse Bride_ appeared. Her eyes crinkled . . . oh, well this one was okay. It wasn't exactly peppy but it wouldn't give her nightmares.

Hotch came back into the bedroom to find Emily watching something animated. His brow furrowed, "are you watching cartoons?"

It was kind of a scary looking cartoon.

Her eyes crinkled as she turned down the TV slightly, "yeah, it's a Tim Burton movie," she tucked the remote under her pillow before she patted the other side of the bed, "get into this bed mister, I'm cold."

Hotch's lips twitched as he turned out the light and then climbed onto the other side of the mattress, "does that line work with many men?"

Emily nodded seriously as she curled into his side, "oh yeah, dozens and dozens of them. You know this bedroom practically has a revolving door on it."

He chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her, rubbing it up and down the exposed flesh of her forearm.

She _was_ cold.

Very cold actually . . . there were goosebumps.

Well . . . he reached down to pull the blankets up over both of them . . . they'd had a good run but fall eventually came to Washington too. And it was essentially November.

If they lived further up the east coast she would have been shivering in bed a month ago.

After the blankets were up he shifted slightly so that he was behind her and then he wrapped his body around hers.

It had been established previously that this was the best position for heat transference. Well, actually naked would be the BEST heat transference but, naked wasn't really an option.

He huffed to himself . . . certainly not in _this_ position.

Emily smiled as she felt Hotch's arm wrap around her waist and then he put his chin on her shoulder. They lay in silence for a few minutes watching the television and then he whispered, "this is a creepy cartoon."

He definitely wouldn't let Jack watch it.

She chuckled, "it's not for little kids, it's for bigger people." They were still for a few more minutes and then, under the blankets, she rubbed her hand slowly along his arm where it was wrapped around her body.

It was so tempting to just turn around in his arms and start kissing him. She knew for sure that he'd kiss her back. They'd kissed before so that was a no brainer. But what she didn't know was what he'd do after that.

If she tried to initiate more, they'd either have a fabulous night and talk about all of these things that she wanted to talk about . . . OR . . . in the more likely alternative, she'd literally scare him right out of bed and she might not get him back in here with her for months.

And that was the great unknown. That was why she was waiting. She was about 70/30 on his reaction to her suddenly jumping his bones. And that was 70 against.

Basically she was pretty sure that he would freak.

Aaron Hotchner liked to be in control, he didn't like surprises and he didn't like sudden change. These were all endearingly anal qualities about him in all other aspects of their life.

However, in this particular aspect of their life, those qualities were a little frustrating.

But . . . she snuggled back against him . . . slow and steady always gets to the end of the race eventually.

They were already this far, they only had to go a little more. And as proof of how close they were to the finish line her eyes crinkled as she heard Hotch whisper in her ear.

"I really did miss you today sweetheart."

It was good this evening went the way it did, because sleeping over tonight really was the only remedy to going a whole day without her. Especially when it was a crappy, stressful, meeting filled, Strauss filled, sleep deprived twenty four hours.

That's when he needed her most.

Hotch sighed in contentment . . . but this . . . he patted her stomach . . . this was excellent. Here curled up with Emily, and Jack right down the hall.

This was the best.

With the exception of the weekend of his injury, he'd never had both of them under the same roof before. And that weekend, he was so banged up that this kind of activity right now wasn't even on the table. All they had then was the half assed cuddling with the couch cushions on the floor.

That was no way to live.

She turned her head slightly and shifted her eyes, "I missed you too," and then she smacked her lips at him and he grinned before turning his attention back to the television.

Yep . . . Emily covered his hand with hers . . . slow and steady would get them there eventually.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Reid was a giant banana and if you watched Arrested Development my clue last time was Gob. There was an episode where he was dressed as a giant banana at the outdoor Christmas party. Remember, he arrived in the cab? So if you're trying to get a good picture of Reid in your head, THAT was the exact same costume._

_Credit to Crazy4Remi for reminding me of an opportunity to do a flashback with someone's point of view on Emily's birthday party. Reid worked out nicely :)_

_Foreshadowing of Em's illness again here with both Reid and Hotch about losing her. The family dynamic I have in the Girl'verse between the team members is kind of why certain other pairings with Em freak me out. No offense if you are an Em/Reid shipper, too each his own of course, and it's all make believe anyway. But you can see that if in my brain I have a surrogate mom thing happening with Emily and Reid, that another story with them having sex would not be so palatable to my poor little brain cells._

_The bit in the beginning with the gun cabinet, all I could think of when I was reading for the final edit, was Anchorman "tickets to the gun show!" But that's just me. See, I make fun of my own stuff :)_

_Emily putting her head over Hotch's heart is a running theme in Girl. This is the first time I've put it in here though. But the point of the prequel is to remember to establish stuff that comes later.  
_

_I had to kind of skim over pumpkin carving and trick or treating around the building or I never would have gotten this one up. It's already like 8000 words already and I really could have done a full little chapter on each of those activities. But alas, there was no time. I would have hit a little Girl wall again and I'm trying to keep the momentum going._

_The next chapter will pick up in the middle of the night, continuing through the next morning. Hotch's big 'in love' revelation, clearly he's on the cusp right now. This one is done. I'll probably add a bit to it though so I might not put it up until closer to next weekend. I'd like to get Horses and Chances next chapters cleaned up so that will be my focus. PLUS, I need to go back to Mirror again._

_**The TV Challenge**__: I already mentioned this in "Three Acts" so disregard because it's going to sound very familiar because it's a cut/paste. But Girl is like the Superbowl, I can be assured of the largest viewing audience here for all announcements :) _

_I put up our new bonus yesterday, Halloween story! This should be really fun, there are a ton of prompts so even if you don't write H/P, please check it out and maybe you'll see something that'll give you an idea. And starting in October I'll be putting up my next full horror one. Sadly not the sequel yet to The Snake Pit, something else. I've already started it and I'm hoping to be done before I post a word. _

_Next: "__**A Profiler's Guide to the Galaxy**__" _


	113. The Profiler's Guide to the Galaxy

**Author's Note**: Picks up after the last one, later that night. But it's technically now Saturday so we rolled into another month :)

And as a side note, yay to November! I have all kinds of good stuff to go up for this month. Post eps/missing scenes for The Instincts, Memoriam and the H/P classic, 52 Pickup. Those will go up in the earlier part of the month (plus Jack's birthday) and then in the latter half I have a major arc I've mentioned involving an incident that could potentially splinter the team. And I also have some filler chapters, some fluffy, some workhorse, already written to go in between.

All in all, with the exception of the Vegas trip, I have a bunch written already for this month so I'm hoping we won't hit too many snags moving forward. Not that I can in any way promise our old daily updates (I'm juggling too many things) but probably once a week depending on where we are. Perhaps we can get November wrapped over the real world months of October and November. Then we can actually do Christmas season at Christmas time. That would nice and festive :)

**General FYI Announcement**: I started updating my profile page with what stories I'll be posting on each week. So if you're interested to know what's in the pipeline, just check out my main page. It's more reliable than the "maybes" I put in my A/Ns. That, sadly, is often wishful thinking. I never can get as much done as I think I will. But if I put it on the profile those are things that are actually done, polished and ready to go up.

*******************************************

_November: Saturday_

**A Profiler's Guide to the Galaxy**

Emily started to stir when she felt something tapping on her arm. She opened her eyes to see Jack outlined by the glow of the nightlight in the bathroom.

He was repeatedly patting her arm as he stage whispered over and over, "Miss Emily, Miss Emily, wake up."

Shifting her gaze over to the alarm clock, Emily saw it was almost four. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up and asked in a whisper, "what's wrong baby?"

Jack's eyes were moist as he bit his lip and held out his teddy bear, "Mr. Bobo had a bad dream. He's scarded of the monsters and Daddy won't wake up."

Emily's face softened as she touched Jack's cheek, "Mr. Bobo had a bad dream?"

Oh . . . her stomach dipped . . . poor baby.

She reached over to pick up Jack and lay him down on her chest. After pulling the blankets up over both of them again she murmured against his ear, "well you tell Mr. Bobo that your daddy and I are right here," she kissed the top of Jack's head as tears sprang to her eyes, "and no monsters are allowed in my house so you guys don't have to be scared of anything."

All the concerns she used to have seemed so small in comparison to the worries she had now.

How to comfort a little boy who had a bad dream.

Not to mention the worries she had about the safety of the man she was in love with and that of the little boy she was holding in her arms.

Regardless of what she told Jack, she knew that the monsters were everywhere. And she only had both of her boys with her for a few hours a week.

Here, now, behind a locked door with her gun in the safe by her side, she could protect them. But how was she supposed to keep them safe in the real world?

Jack murmured sleepily against her breast, "how come daddy didn't wake up? I patted'ed him too."

Under the blankets, Emily rubbed small circles on Jack's back as she whispered to him, "daddy's tired honey. He had a very long day."

Hotch had been pulled into work at five for a security briefing after a bombing outside the embassy in Madrid. After going in so early, and it being a Friday . . . not to mention Halloween, he'd been planning on being out by three o'clock.

No such luck.

Strauss pulled him into the afternoon briefing which started at four fifteen. Basically the man had slept for three hours, gotten up in the middle of the night, and gone in to work almost a fourteen hour day.

She turned her head slightly to see him lying at her side . . . poor thing. He was exhausted.

But she knew how badly he'd feel if he thought Jack had needed him and he hadn't been there for him. So she slid over a half an inch and pressed her body against his.

As expected . . . even in his sleep . . . Hotch reached for her.

When his arms encircled her and Jack she smiled. If she played her cards right she could have this all the time.

Though . . . she kissed the top of Jack's head as he contentedly nuzzled her neck . . . Jack still lived with Haley most of the week. Still, even just having this on the weekends would be enough.

It was a hell of a lot more than she had now.

And . . . she picked up Hotch's hand, kissing his knuckles before she moved it over to Jack's back . . . she could have the big guy every day.

Right now they were just playing house but . . . she closed her eyes and sighed . . . someday soon she hoped to have this for real.

///////

Hotch started to stir when he felt a familiar little hand patting his cheek, followed by Jack's version of a whisper, "daddy, daddy, wake up."

A smile crossed Hotch's face as his eyes opened. Always and forever Jack would be the best alarm clock around.

He turned his head slightly to see Jack lying between him and Emily.

"Hey buddy," his voice was scratchy and his next words came out on a yawn, "when did you get here?"

As he checked the clock Hotch saw it was Jack's usual wake up time of 6:30. Hotch had heard rumors of people that still slept in on the weekends. Though he was pretty sure that none of those people had small children.

Jack leaned on his chest, "Mr. Bobo had'ed a bad dream so Miss Emily said he could sleep with youse guys."

The implication of course being that Jack was only keeping Mr. Bobo company in his excursion down the hall to the big people's room.

Hotch reached over to pull Jack to his chest as he asked worriedly, "Mr. Bobo had a bad dream?" At Jack's affirmative nod Hotch gently rubbed his hand down his son's back, "why didn't you wake me up bud?"

Jack giggled into his chest, "I tried'ed but you was a sleepyhead and didn't wake up," he tipped his head back to look at Hotch, "Miss Emily told me you was tired."

His expression softening, Hotch looked at Emily, "so Miss Emily was up with . . . Mr. Bobo?"

Hotch almost said "you" but he knew his son liked to pretend that all of his bad dreams were just his teddy bear's dreams. Haley was worried about that but Hotch told her it was okay. It was understandable that he wanted to maintain a bit of distance from them.

As long as he still came to them, then they had no reason to worry that he was suppressing anything.

Given Hotch's psych training, and that he was the resident expert on nightmares, Haley did tend to defer to him on this issue. Jack's dreams had started after the separation so it didn't take Freud to figure out the root cause of them.

Though fortunately they were at least coming with less frequency now that he had some stability in his routine.

Jack's cheek rubbed against Hotch's t-shirt as he nodded, "uh, huh Miss Emily said to tell Mr. Bobo that no monsters were allowed in her house. And that he was safe because you and her was right here."

Hotch's gaze shifted back to Emily, but his words were directed to Jack as he said softly, "she did, huh?" He reached over to brush Emily's hair back before he looked at Jack, "how about we make Miss Emily breakfast this morning?"

It was the first time they'd slept at her house, they should do something nice for her. Especially after everything she had done for Jack last night. Not just for comforting him after his bad dream, but also the decorations, the pumpkin carving, making him dinner, the list went on.

She'd gone above and beyond for everything.

Jack pushed himself up on one pudgy fist as his face lit up, "I help you daddy?"

Holding Jack to his chest, Hotch sat up with a smile as he said softly, "you sure can buddy. Now come on," he got up with Jack in his arms, stepping into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush before they went downstairs.

He knew that Jack had to go to the bathroom but they'd be less likely to wake Emily up if they did their morning routine in the smaller bathroom downstairs. Hotch figured that he and Jack could share a toothbrush today. But as Hotch opened the medicine cabinet to get his own brush, he saw laying next to it a newly packaged one with Scooby Doo on it.

He bit his lip as he took that one down too. God she was sweet.

Having rightly deduced that there was good possibility they'd be sleeping at her place, she must have picked it up for Jack when she found out they were coming over for Halloween.

They went back into the bedroom and Hotch stepped over to the bed, leaning down to give Emily a quick kiss on the cheek before they left the room.

///////////

Emily awoke to the aroma of coffee, which was a fairly uncommon occurrence given that she lived alone.

But then her synapses started firing and she remembered that Hotch and Jack had slept over. She reached over to feel Hotch's side of the bed.

Cool.

Apparently they'd gotten up awhile ago.

She pushed off the blankets, eyes crinkling as she found Mr. Bobo under the covers with her. Picking up the beloved bear, she held it up in front of her by his two front paws.

God she loved that little boy. Probably as much as she loved his daddy.

And that was saying something.

Emily tucked the bear back down in the covers again. Ordinarily she'd bring it downstairs so Jack wouldn't forget it, but she was hoping to get the Hotchner boys to sleep over tonight too.

She was not above bear napping to make that happen.

With a yawn and a roll of her neck, Emily pushed herself out of bed and headed in to brush her teeth and go to the bathroom before she went off to find her favorite boys.

////////

After digging out her robe . . . the house was a bit chilly . . . Emily came downstairs to find Hotch and Jack in the kitchen.

Her eyes crinkled as she saw the big guy was holding the little guy on his hip as the two of them looked in the pan on the stove. Because Hotch was explaining to Jack about not letting the eggs burn, neither of them heard her coming down the stairs.

As she rounded the corner of the staircase Emily smiled broadly as she looked over at them. Jack's head was tipped onto Hotch's shoulder.

They were so damn cute together.

Then she called out loudly, "good morning!"

Both Hotchners turned to her wearing identical grins as the overlapping responses of "good morning" and "Miss Emily!" came bouncing back.

Jack wriggled out of Hotch's arms to run over to her as he yelled excitedly, "Miss Emily, Daddy let me break the eggs!"

Picking Jack up, Emily squeezed him tightly to her chest, "he did?" she kissed his cheek, "well it sounds like you're a good helper."

He nodded seriously, "uh huh, I am a good helper. Daddy said so," then he whispered conspiratorially in her ear, "we're making you breakfast."

Feigning surprise Emily leaned back dramatically, "you are? Well let's go see," she walked over to Hotch, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she leaned around his shoulder, "it smells yummy."

Her gaze shifted up to the bigger cook, "what is it?"

It smelled absolutely delicious. But she had discovered over the past few months that Hotch was a really good cook. If they had time in the morning he'd make breakfast when he stayed over. His stuffed French toast was awesome.

If he hadn't gone into serial killer catching he totally could have been a chef.

Hotch gave her a little smile, "a mushroom and sausage frittata, and there's a hash brown casserole in the oven." As her face lit up in delight his eyebrow quirked up in amusement, "yeah, well you would have just gotten cold cereal and toast but for a change you actually had groceries in your fridge."

And by groceries he meant vegetables and other perishable items. Usually she was stocked up on prepared meals or junk food.

She chuckled as she placed a squirming Jack back on the ground. As he raced off to the living room she laughingly answered Hotch, "well, I went shopping a couple of days ago for dinner last night and I think as I was filling up the grocery cart I ended up pretending like I actually could cook."

When Hotch's eyes crinkled in amusement he looked so adorable that she had a sudden urge to give him a real good morning kiss. But she was trying to resist giving into those little urges too often.

It was that damn slippery slope. An occasional kiss on the lips was okay, close friends did that sometimes. But too much real kissing right now would lead to conversations that she was sure he wasn't ready for yet.

So instead she settled for a good morning hug. And as he held her close and kissed her temple she smiled against his chest . . . yeah, good morning hugs worked just fine too.

Hotch closed his eyes for a second . . . he would have loved to stay in that position with her, but . . . he had eggs cooking. So he patted Emily's back, turned his head to kiss her temple again, and then shifted slightly to slide his arm around her waist. He picked up his spatula with an apologetic smile.

"Your breakfast is going to burn if I don't flip this now."

Her lip quirked up, "well as long as you broke off contact for a good cause . . . feeding me . . . then I guess I can forgive you."

Hotch's mouth twitched, "that's very big of you," then he placed another quick kiss on her cheek before he turned back to the stove.

A second later Emily clapped in delight after she watched him flip her breakfast one handed.

He started to chuckle, "please go get your coffee before you distract me enough that I ruin this."

It was impossible to concentrate on cooking with her so close to him.

Emily gave him a little pout at being sent away . . . she loved to watch him cook . . . but then she realized that her breakfast could indeed be in danger of ruination if she didn't leave him alone.

That would be a tragedy.

So she slipped out of his grasp to go pour a fresh cup of coffee for her and a refill for him.

As Emily handed him his cup Hotch whispered, "thank you for waking up with Jack last night. I guess I must have been more tired than I realized."

She gave him a little smile and a pat on the arm, "no problem," her eyes shifted over to Jack standing in the living room drinking his juice as he watched cartoons, "I'm just glad he seems okay now."

Turning to glance over his shoulder, Hotch nodded, "yeah he's good. The nightmares started after the divorce," he sighed, "it's usually a monster in his closet and I don't come when he calls me," he gave her a sad smile, "well, actually I don't come when Mr. Bobo calls me. It's always Mr. Bobo's dream, not his."

With another sigh he turned back to the stove, "and apparently last night he did call for me and I really didn't come for him."

He only had his boy two days a week. It would be nice if he could manage not to let him down in just a forty eight hour window.

Seeing the guilt flitter across Hotch's face, Emily's brow creased in concern, "actually," she rubbed her hand down his back, "you did. As soon as he climbed up in bed with me you wrapped your arms around both of us like you knew that he needed you."

Hotch dipped his head down to look at her in hopeful surprise, "really?"

With a little smile she nodded, "yep, so you see, nothing to feel guilty about."

It was a teeny tiny little smudge of the truth but seeing the happiness it gave him she wouldn't have taken it back for anything.

Especially after he leaned down with a smile to smack a quick kiss on her lips before turning back to slide the giant frittata onto the plate.

Emily moved out of his way, leaning back against the breakfast bar to watch as the casserole came out of the oven next. Again . . . it smelled delicious. And finally Hotch poured two more glasses of orange juice and a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios for Jack.

Fortunately Emily and the littlest Hotchner had the same taste in cereal.

After everything was all lined up on the counter Hotch called out loudly.

"Who's hungry!?"

/////////

After breakfast Hotch and Emily settled in on the couch, drinking their coffee as they checked the headlines on their respective laptops.

Jimmy Neutron was on in the background and Jack was sitting on the floor giggling at the adventures of the boy genius. Emily wasn't familiar with this cartoon but as she glanced up and watched a couple of minutes of it she turned to Hotch, "this one isn't too advanced for him?"

It seemed to be more geared to a seven or eight year old.

Hotch glanced at the television, "he just likes the bright colors and the silly visuals," Hotch's lip quirked up as he looked at Emily over his glasses, "he really doesn't understand the plot that well."

His boy was a smart cookie but SpongeBob's adventures were still definitely more his speed.

Emily nodded and went back to her reading. A few minutes later she yawned, deciding she'd had enough of world events for now. She put her laptop back on the coffee table before she pulled her feet up under her and tipped her head onto Hotch's shoulder.

If she was just going to get to play happy family for one morning she wanted to actually enjoy having Hotch and Jack with her. With the exception of the weekend she stayed with them after the shooting, this was the first time they'd all woken up together on a weekend morning.

Of course that first weekend Hotch had been a mess and in terrible pain, so it wasn't exactly the same vibe as right now.

Her eyes crinkled as she watched Jack giggling on the floor. This was the best though. This she could definitely get used to.

As though he could read her mind Hotch suddenly looked over at her with a little smile, "this is nice."

Waking up with his two favorite people on the planet, what more could he . . . his brain short circuited for a moment . . . want.

He looked over at Emily in her robe, wearing his t-shirt underneath as she snuggled into his side. And then his gaze dropped to Jack on the floor in the remnants of his Superman costume.

Hotch's brow creased as he cleared his mind of all other thoughts and honestly asked himself the question.

'_What more could he possibly want than this? What could be better than this?'_

The answer came as a lightning bolt that slammed into him without warning.

Aside from a quickening of his heart rate, there was no external indication of his revelatory moment. But as his eyes dropped down to his computer and he stared at the words on the screen . . . he realized that he could no longer read anything.

His brain couldn't focus on anything but that single revelation now bouncing in his head.

He carefully closed his laptop and put it on the end table as he told Emily, "uh, I have to go the bathroom."

To his own ears his voice sounded oddly detached, but Emily didn't seem to notice anything unusual as she sat up off his shoulder with a little smile, "'kay, I'll keep your spot warm."

Turning his head slightly, Hotch stared at her for a moment. Apparently a moment too long because Emily's brow wrinkled as she gave him a quizzical smile, "you okay?"

He looked a little pale.

Realizing that he was gaping at her like an idiot, Hotch flashed a quick dimple as he pushed himself off the couch, "yeah, just . . . thinking. Uh, do you want to go to the park a little later?"

Emily laughed, "Aaron, we go to the park every week," she lowered her voice as she raised her brow in amusement, "were you spiking your OJ this morning before I got up?"

Why was he acting so funny?

His lip quirked up, but he didn't answer her. Instead he just planted a quick kiss on her forehead before he turned and jogged up the stairs.

Emily watched him go with a look of bewilderment. Then she turned to his son, calling out to Jack, "you have a silly daddy."

Jack shot a grin over his shoulder, "silly, billy, willy."

Barking a laugh, Emily nodded, "that's right honey, silly, billy, willy."

She'd taught him that little nonsense rhyme a few weeks ago. And she was tremendously pleased to see that he had remembered it.

With a sigh she grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and huddled underneath it, waiting for Hotch to come back downstairs.

///////

Hotch sat on the edge of Emily's bed digging his fingers into the mattress as he stared at a piece of lint on the carpet.

He was in love.

He was in love with Emily.

He was hopelessly, ridiculously, unapologetically in love with Emily Rose Prentiss.

Hotch had no idea when that had happened but the reality of the situation had just bashed him over the head when he was sitting downstairs.

It was the three of them together on a Saturday morning. It was perfect. Waking up in bed with both of them, making breakfast together, having coffee, reading the paper with her while Jack watched cartoons.

They were . . . like a family.

Scratch that . . . they _were_ his family. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Emily. Making her happy made him happy.

His eyes stung . . . he adored her.

How could he not? She was perfect. She was wonderful. And she had saved him from a dark and miserable world that he was allowing to engulf him. And now he couldn't imagine going back to his life as it was before.

A life of nothing but his terrible work. Of finding little joy in anything but his few hours a week with his son.

But now . . . he was happy. For the first time in years he was genuinely happy most of the time. But that was only because most of the time he was with her.

Even the cases . . . as awful as they were, as awful as they always would be . . . now he had her with him to help lessen that horror. She was his brightness, his spark.

His Emily.

She was _his_ Emily. His special girl.

But what was he supposed to do now? Just go blurt it out?

'_Hey, guess what? I just discovered that you're my entire reason for getting up in the morning and that I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. Is that the last of the coffee?'_

He cringed . . . no, no, he couldn't do that. Well, he certainly couldn't do THAT. But unfortunately he couldn't envision a good scenario to tell her at all.

Life was so good just the way it was. What if he told her and then screwed it up? After all, there was a precedent set here. He'd screwed up a twenty year marriage, he'd killed it dead.

And apparently . . . according to that soul deadening revelation from his now _ex_-wife . . . it took ten years for that marriage to whither on the vine.

And he hadn't seen the demise coming until the last few months.

That relationship, the way it had ended, it had left a lot of scar tissue. And now he honestly wondered if he was still capable of sustaining a romantic relationship.

If he wasn't completely clueless about what was needed to make it work.

That thought saddened him. He didn't want to be alone, but he was afraid to try again.

What he had discovered over these past few months though, was that he could sustain a close friendship. And that . . . regardless of his realization about his deeper feelings . . . was what he had with Emily right now.

He scrubbed his hand down his face . . . maybe it would be best if he just stayed with that relationship for the time being.

His heart seized . . . of course that meant no lifelong declarations, no kissing, no making love, no waking up with her in his arms every day.

Those were all things that he wanted to have. That he wanted to have with her.

Shaking his head slightly he tried to remember why he thought telling her was a bad idea to begin with. Okay . . . he sighed . . . on the pro side of just staying with what they had now. There was no missing dinner because he had to work, no disappointing stares over the breakfast table, no forgetting her birthday or their anniversary.

No divorce.

If he wasn't dating Emily, he couldn't break up with Emily. If he couldn't break up with Emily then he couldn't lose her.

WHAT THE HELL WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO?!

"Aaron?"

Hotch's head whipped around as he heard Emily call his name. She was standing in the doorway with her brow wrinkled in concern.

"Are you okay?"

She'd decided to come upstairs when she realized he'd be gone almost a half hour. And she hadn't heard the shower running. Either he was really sick or something was wrong. And given his peculiar behavior downstairs she was leaning towards the latter.

He stared blankly at her for a moment, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Her brow furrowed in concern, Emily came over to him, "I asked if you were okay," she sat down on his lap and put one arm around his neck. Then she brushed his hair back with the fingers of her other hand as she asked worriedly, "are you sick Aaron?"

It wasn't like him to get sick. The man had a cast iron immune system. But it also wasn't like him to disappear for a half an hour only for her to find him staring at the carpet like it held the secrets to the universe.

His eyes crinkled slightly as she felt his forehead with the back of her hand. She was such a sweetheart. But even though he had a rule about never lying to her, in this instance he absolutely couldn't tell her what was on his mind.

Not when it was all about her.

So he tried to push aside all of his whirling emotions and just act normally for a few minutes. He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a little smile, "I don't have a fever, just . . ." his fingers brushed over his right temple, "a bit of a headache."

That was actually quite true. He'd been driving himself nuts for . . . apparently . . . a half hour. If asked he would have assumed only ten minutes had gone by. But he definitely did have a nice throbbing behind his right temple.

At the thought of him in pain, Emily's lip came out in a slight pout, "did you take some Tylenol?" At his headshake she started to stand up, "well then I'll go get you some."

"No," Hotch tightened his hold on her waist, "wait, could you just sit with me for a minute?"

It would probably look a little bit odd to her that he had a headache but wanted no pills to make it go away. In fact he could tell from the look on her face that he had just raised her worry quotient another notch, but he really just felt better when she was with him.

He always did.

Certainly Emily was a better treatment for what ailed him than anything he could find in a bottle.

He supposed that was another point in favor of telling her.

Chewing her lip for a moment, Emily stared at Hotch . . . something was up with him beyond the headache. Though she could tell from his pinched brow that he wasn't lying about that, he was in pain. But if he didn't want to tell her what had caused the headache then that was okay. She'd let it go for now.

He'd tell her eventually, he always did.

Her job was to simply be there for him when he needed her. At least that's what she'd decided her job was. It seemed to fall pretty high under the duties of 'pledge undying love and devotion to man who in all likelihood is soul mate.'

So she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his ear, "of course."

Right now . . . she felt him tip his head against hers . . . whatever else was going on, it was obvious that he did need her. So she would just sit with him.

Hotch wrapped his arms around Emily and closed his eyes, trying to find the usual calm he did when he was with her. But instead he kept picturing a world where he wasn't allowed to do this.

A world where she wanted nothing to do with him.

That would be the world where he told her how he felt, they got together and then he screwed things up.

His grip on her tightened in desperation, but still she wasn't close enough to wipe those thoughts away.

Still he had this image in his mind of her . . . gone.

His eyes started to burn and he murmured in her ear, "you know I would never hurt you right?"

Now getting extremely concerned about his mental state, Emily started rubbing his back as she whispered back hastily, "of _course_ I know that Aaron. You would never lay a hand on me."

What the HELL was going on with him today?!

"No," he shook his head slightly as he pulled back to look at her, "no, I don't mean physically, of course I would never . . ." he winced at the horrible image that suddenly appeared in his mind. Something from one of his case files, he shook his head to clear it before looking back at her, "I meant if I ever said something or did something that upset you, that hurt you, that you would know that I hadn't done it on purpose," his eyes started to water, "you do know that right?"

Feeling her own tears starting to pool in sympathy, Emily touched his cheek, "of course," she stared at him for a moment, seeing the anxiety on his face and wondering how she could wipe it away. She tried a kiss, holding her lips to his a moment longer than usual, and that got a little smile out of him so she put her head back on his shoulder.

As she started to rub his stomach she whispered, "honey are you sure you don't want to tell me what's bothering you?"

He shook his head, "no, no I'm . . ." he almost said he was okay but it was quite obvious to her that he wasn't okay.

So instead he settled on the next closest truth. He picked up her hand and whispered, "I'll be okay if you just sit with me."

What he was actually thinking was, _'I'll be okay if you promise to never leave me.'_ But he figured that would scare the crap out of her.

Emily snuggled in closer as she wiped the corner of her eye, "I'll sit with you as long as you want."

She'd waited until the SpongeBob credits had started to come on before she checked on Hotch. That way she knew that Jack would be transfixed for the hour.

Hotch knew he needed to get it together soon or he was going to seriously scare the crap out of her. If only he could get his thoughts unjumbled.

His real fears separated from his imaginary ones.

Though in all of those scenarios, real and imaginary, Emily was lost to him the way Haley was . . . in a cloud of bitterness and anger. As he felt the love and concern coming off of Emily right now it hardly seemed possible that they could ever go down that same road.

But Haley had once loved him too.

Love can twist and become something ugly. And he couldn't bear it if that happened with Emily. As much as it pained him, he'd almost rather just stay with what they had now forever, than risk that ever happening.

Gun shy didn't even begin to cover his worries on this front.

He checked the clock and saw that it was 9:17 . . . Jack would be busy with SpongeBob and friends for a while longer. So he decided to maybe try doing what always made Emily feel better.

A cuddle.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as he whispered his request in her ear. Then she stood up and climbed onto the still unmade bed. Hotch stared at her across the mattress, and she put her hand out with a little smile, "come on. You know there are magical recuperative powers in a good cuddle."

If this is what he needed to feel better than this is what they were going to do. Not that she'd ever turn down the opportunity to cuddle with Hotch.

This was probably the first time that he had ever initiated though.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he lay down and she climbed on top of him. He lay there for a moment, trying to find his center and then the little voice in the back of his head took the reins from his hands.

'_Go back to what you know Aaron. Go back to the banter, go back to the humor . . . just go back to her.'_

His fingertips began to dance along her sides as he said softly, "I thought we had agreed we were going to find another name for it."

She scooted a little further up his side as she smiled into his shoulder. That was more like it.

"Uh, uh. YOU agreed that _you_ were going to find another name for it. I was always fine with the name that the activity already has."

"That's right," he closed his eyes and smiled, "that's right."

He started to feel a little better. This is what he had now.

Her.

And he could probably have her all the time. Every day of his life if he just told her how he felt. But he knew . . . with all of these fears and doubts chasing him . . . that he wasn't ready to do that just yet.

He'd be setting them up for a self fulfilling failure if he was constantly worrying about destroying their relationship.

Too much had happened already this year. Things had been so bad for so long. And now they were so good. And maybe they would get even better.

But he wasn't prepared yet to change it all again.

He felt her reach over to intertwine their fingers . . . but someday he would. Maybe someday soon. But . . . he picked up her hand and kissed it . . . not right now.

Not today.

Today . . . he took a breath and let it out slowly . . . today he decided that he would put the other stuff aside. All of his worries, all of his fears, they could wait. He could start dealing with them tomorrow. Figuring out what he was going to do to get passed them.

But today he decided he would just embrace the moment and enjoy this new revelation. So he would cuddle with his favorite girl and then they would take his son to the park. And he would watch them play tag and they would laugh and giggle . . . and they would make him smile.

His eyes burned . . . they would make him happy.

And he wasn't ready to lose any of that. Not one moment. And that's why he wanted to wait.

And who knows? Maybe he wouldn't lose anything. Maybe he would tell Emily that he loved her and she would say that she loved him back. And it would be wonderful, even better than what it was now.

But he was already happy right now. He liked his life. He loved his girl. And their relationship had so many perks. He got to sleep in the same bed with her, and he got hugs and kisses and cuddling and snuggling and all the other good stuff.

Okay . . . his fingertips grazed over her lower back . . . perhaps not ALL of the other good stuff. Making love to Emily would be amazing. Of that he had no doubt. But that's all he was missing right now.

And he honestly wasn't missing it _that_ much.

Celibacy . . . sadly . . . had become a customary way of life. Rossi might still make the occasional crack about him forgetting how to do it, but Hotch wasn't paying him any attention. Because he had known for awhile that he didn't want to practice with anyone.

He just hadn't known why.

But now he realized what that reason was, he just wanted the girl in his arms. If he couldn't have her then he didn't want anyone else.

A life of indefinite celibacy wasn't particularly appealing, but he'd honestly, _willingly_ take that future over losing what he had with her right now.

But it wouldn't come to that. He just needed some more time. Just a little more time to adjust. To get up his nerve and beat down his fears.

And as long as Emily was in her own dating dry dock, he didn't need to rush into anything. Of that he was sure. He wasn't yet 100% positive that Emily's feelings for him were precisely reciprocal, that they were romantic, but he knew that she loved him. He knew that she would be heartbroken if something were to happen to him. He knew that he could make her laugh, make her smile . . . just make her happy.

He knew those things. He wasn't competing with any other men to get the girl. He _had_ the girl.

Now he just needed to decide exactly what he was going to do about that.

Emily kissed Hotch's jaw before she asked softly, "are you feeling better honey?"

He seemed a little better. She wasn't getting the same strange vibes coming off of him. He seemed more at peace now.

Hotch nodded slowly as he whispered back, "yes I am sweetheart," he pressed his lips to her temple and murmured again.

"Yes I am."

Sweetheart was one more thing he was going to embrace. And at least he now had his answer as to why he kept using that particular term of endearment.

Emily was his sweetheart. His best girl. His key to the universe.

His guide to the galaxy.

Emily pushed herself up slightly to grin at him, "see I told you a good cuddle had recuperative powers."

His lip quirked up and she leaned forward to press a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then she settled back down on his side with a little sigh, "wake me up when you want to go downstairs."

As long as he was feeling better then she was going to take advantage of a few minutes of nap time. She wasn't used to getting up quite so early on a Saturday. If she was home that was usually sleep catch up day.

Her eyes crinkled . . . but little boys operated on different schedules. And if she wanted this life then she was going to need to get used to that world. But today a nap was in order so she'd be able to play later.

He nodded and whispered back, "okay."

A moment later he looked down to see her eyes closing and he smiled as he kissed her temple again.

'_Yep, definitely had the girl. Now what was he going to do with her?'_

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_A/N 2: The title, it's established in another part of the Girl'verse that The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was Hotch's favorite book growing up. Em's too actually.  
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_Some of you might have noticed I broke my own rule . . . slightly. I've said The Hours is Girl canon and I have to follow it here. And The Hours, the opening chapter implied Hotch's revelatory moment came in the park with Emily and Jack and he saw them laughing. and that's when he knew. But I just really thought the flow going through the activities of their morning routine was much more organic to that moment. Pushing it off further would have been rather contrived. And I set up the implied trip to the park and Emily and Jack playing so it does still fall in line with what I wrote initially. It's just not as explicit as I had perhaps planned to write it. When I tweak the Hours I'll probably tweak that line a bit. _

_That's sort of the occasional trip up I have doing the prequel. I had no idea when I wrote the cancer story how far along their relationship would really be in this world by the fall. With them being so much closer than my little addled unsophisticated writing skills could have known back in December of 2008 (so long ago) I'm now just trying to fix it the way it should be :)_

_I tried to make this one completely different than Emily's revelation. Hopefully I succeeded there. And hopefully Hotch's reasoning made sense. As I was being him in his head it sort of did to me. He's not putting it off forever, he's just trying to be responsible and not make any huge decisions when he's dealing with all of these fears and doubts. He doesn't want to hurt her. And this is the one world where they've gone so slowly that all of this crept up on him. In the other ones he could make rational informed decisions up front about what he was doing. In this one, they've already gotten to the happy playing house portion and neither of them has declared a damn thing. So that would be a major upsetting of the apple cart to start bringing that stuff up now. That was the little trick here, making sure them WAITING in this world didn't nullify the reasons they decided to move forward in the others. Sort of a reverse of the hat trick :)_

_In the opening bit I liked the twist of Emily being the one in protective mode of keeping Hotch and Jack safe. I may have said with her, for various reasons, being in a bit more vulnerable state in a few other stories (grief, pregnancy, cancer) I do try to up her Xena quotient here :)_

_**SLIGHT SPOILER FOR THE PREMIERE**_

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_Given what we saw this week, all of the Jack/Hotch stuff I wrote seems a bit foreshadowy and bittersweet right now. I had written all of that before the episode but I was reading it today and it made me a bit sad for Hotch. And yes I know he is fictional :) So I'm happy that things are at least good for them here in this world._

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_**SPOILER OVER**_

_I have the next chapter already written, Emily finally gets to have that lunch with her dad. That should be up next weekend. Girl's in good shape for the next five (seriously five!) consecutive chapters so I'd really like to focus on other stuff this week. But I think it's not too optimistic to say that Girl should have a regular update every weekend at least through October :)  
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	114. My Daughter's Keeper

**Author's Note**: And . . . we're back into canon. This chapter sets us up for the trip to Vegas. The one with Reid's nightmares about the dead boy. It's also coincidentally the ep where I got my avatar right up there in the left hand side :) Consider this a missing scene from before they got on the plane.

Her dad turns up here. They'd been wanting to get together for awhile so I decided to let them :) And given that Emily doesn't really have anyone to talk to about her feelings for Hotch, I thought it would be a good place for her dad to turn up as a sounding board. After all he's been in the know much longer than either she or Hotch have been :)

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_Episode – The Instincts_

_Early November: Tuesday_

**My Daughter's Keeper**

Richard Prentiss stepped into Ruth's Chris, his brow wrinkling as he looked over the noisy lunchtime crowd.

Now where was . . . suddenly he smiled as he saw his daughter waving at him from the corner.

Ah . . . there she was.

It had been a nice surprise when Emily had called him yesterday to see if he could meet her for lunch today. Usually it took their plans weeks . . . sometimes months . . . to iron out. But fortunately he had a trip to Cairo get canceled at the last minute. And he had of course been delighted at the prospect of filling his now semi-free time this week by having lunch with his only child.

He worked his way across the crowded restaurant, taking note of his daughter's appearance as she stood up to greet him.

Her standard dark suit, which today she had complimented with a tan blouse.

She looked beautiful.

But of course, just like her mother, Richard thought Emily always looked beautiful.

Some fathers might be prejudiced about their children, but in his case, Richard was quite confident that his daughter's striking appeal was simply an empirical statement of fact.

One thing that caught his eye as he approached her was the pendant that she was wearing. It looked expensive and he was sure that he hadn't seen it before. And his daughter wasn't the type to wear her expensive jewelry on the job. Not only was there a risk of getting it covered in gore, but she also wasn't into ornamentation. Therefore he deduced it had some sentimental value.

A thought . . . or more particularly . . . a name, popped into his head as he kissed his daughter's cheek.

"Hello pumpkin," eyes crinkling he gave her the once over as they sat down, "you look lovely as always."

Emily smiled, "thanks daddy. And you're looking just as dapper as always," her smile changed to a smirk as she reached over to fix his tie where it had flipped over his shoulder in the wind, "though this might look a tad bit better tag side down."

Her father was a snappy dresser but once the clothes were on, he never did pay much attention to his appearance. It drove her mother nuts.

Smoothing his hand down over the green silk Richard chuckled slightly, "good call honey," then he figured this was a perfect opening to be nosy. So he gestured with his chin as he added nonchalantly, "speaking of things you hang around your neck, that's a pretty pendant."

And as he'd expected . . . given the name that popped into his head a moment ago . . . her eyes softened as she reached up to touch it.

"It was a birthday present," Emily said quietly.

She loved her pendant but she was hardly ever able to wear it to work. It was so beautiful, but given the unique color it unfortunately wasn't suitable for her to put on every day.

It only matched a few things in her wardrobe.

Beyond that though, she was afraid that if she wore it in the field it would get covered in ick. Or God forbid she was chasing a suspect, or kicking in a door, and somehow the chain broke and it got lost.

Either the ick or the loss would definitely result in tears being shed.

So generally she only wore the pendant if they were guaranteed to be around the office. But as long as she was sure that they wouldn't be called away, at least once a week she pulled out something from her closet that would properly compliment her necklace. And Hotch always winked at her when he saw that she was wearing it.

Nobody else knew it was from him, it was something special between them. So that wink, and the little ghost of a smile that went with it, that was usually her favorite part of the day.

Bingo . . . Richard patted himself on the back . . . sentimental value. And he had no doubt that Hotchner was the one who gave it to her.

Now . . . he shook out his napkin before he looked over at her again . . . let's see if she confirms it.

At her father's expectant look Emily realized that he was expecting her to finish her thought and tell him WHO gave her the birthday present. Her jaw worked back at forth as she looked down at her menu, pretending not to notice his curiosity.

He'd been nosy about her relationship with Hotch before, but back then there'd been nothing to tell.

Now there was something to tell but she just wasn't sure she wanted to discuss it with her father. That wasn't the kind of thing that she'd usually talk about with him.

It wasn't until she was staring at the menu though that she realized that she would actually like to talk to someone about it. And she really didn't have anyone else.

Her closest friends were on the team, she had no siblings, and the less said about her relationship with her mother the better. Progress had been made over the past couple of years but they certainly didn't discuss Emily's romantic relationships.

Her mother had never been shy about expressing her disappointment in Emily's past choices in well, everything. Emily's taste in men was always a popular topic for critique though.

Granted, in retrospect her mother had some valid points to make. Especially during the years when Emily was bringing home guys named Snake and Vinnie the 'insert any noun.' But regardless of the validity of some of her critiques, that was a large part of why Emily didn't talk about her life with her mother now.

Nobody wants to be regularly told that they're screwing up . . . even when they are.

But her dad was different.

He was Switzerland . . . or maybe Australia. Mostly minding his own business but lending a hand when needed.

So even though his curiosity seemed to have passed, and he hadn't actually asked the question, she looked at him over the top of her menu and said softly, "Hotch gave it to me."

It was after the words were uttered that she realized with the gap since she'd answered his question initially, that follow up now was a slight non sequitur.

Well . . . she cleared her throat . . . no matter. If her father really wanted to know who gave it to her then he'd realize what she was talking about.

The silence spread out for a moment. Richard was amazed that she'd actually admitted that to him. And he was afraid that if he said the wrong thing . . . or really anything . . . that she might shutter herself off again.

All he wanted was to be a part of his daughter's life. But she was a grown woman. A grown woman raised by a spy and a diplomat. If anyone knew how to hide her secrets and deflect inquiries about her personal business it was his Emily.

Though his relationship with his child was more open than his wife's was, he was still rarely brought into her confidence on anything but matters related to her work.

Work was their main conduit for communication. But as the seconds ticked away he could see that he had miscalculated slightly.

She clearly was expecting . . . perhaps even hoping . . . for some response from him. So he reached over and touched the chain.

"It's beautiful pumpkin. Hotchner has good taste."

'_Of course Hotchner had good taste,' _he added to himself, _'he was involved with his daughter after all.'_

Richard didn't actually say _that_, instead he gave her a look as he pulled his hand back, "it looks expensive," he paused before asking cautiously, "does it mean something beside 'happy birthday'?"

There . . . that was neutral, yet non judgmental support.

Christ . . . he rolled his eyes internally . . . crossing into North Korea was less dangerous than having a personal conversation with his grown daughter.

Tears stung Emily's eyes as she stared at her father. She wanted so badly to talk to someone about this . . . to get somebody else's opinion . . . just to make sure she was reading things correctly.

So she nodded slowly as she responded in the same subdued tone, "I think so."

It hadn't occurred to her at the time he gave it to her, but now, whenever she pulled out her lovely birthday gift she realized how much it said about Hotch's depth of feeling for her.

It was a beautiful . . . very expensive . . . one of a kind piece of jewelry. It was more something that you'd give a lover than simply a friend.

Seeing the moisture in his daughter's eyes Richard felt a little twist in his gut as he inquired gently, "you just think? You're not sure?"

Hadn't they been dating for months? And he _still _hadn't told her how he felt yet? What was WRONG with this man!?

She shook her head, "no, I'm not sure. I think so, but . . . well . . ." she sniffed as she looked over at him expectantly, "dad if I tell you something will you keep it just between us?"

Richard was about to answer when the waiter came up.

"Would you like to hear our specials?"

After taking one look at Emily's face Richard shook his head, "no thank you," he paused for a second, closing his eyes as he pictured the menu, then he looked up, "we'll just have two steak sandwiches, medium rare, blue cheese on the side," seeing the waiter about to open his mouth he quickly added, "and a sweet tea for me and a diet Coke for the lady."

He might only have lunch with his daughter four or five times a year but he always knew exactly what she wanted to eat.

Junk that clogged her arteries . . . just like him.

The waiter nodded as he collected their menus, "very good sir, thank you."

Hoping that the moment wasn't lost, Richard waited until the waiter stepped out of hearing distance before he looked back at Emily.

"Honey, you can tell me anything and I'll keep your confidence."

Emily looked over at him warily, "you can't tell mother either."

She knew that was unfair. Spouses told each other everything. It was understood if you told something to one person it was going to their partner as well. And if you didn't know that then you were just naïve, or perhaps a flat out idiot.

Hell, Emily knew that she could barely keep a secret from Hotch now and they weren't even technically involved! She couldn't imagine how awkward it would be if somebody asked her to keep something from him after they'd been together for forty years.

Of course that was if they were ever lucky enough to reach that milestone. Or . . . she huffed to herself . . . any milestone.

She started to feel a slight touch of melancholy as she thought back over the past couple days.

They'd had such a good weekend.

Hotch and Jack stayed over Saturday night too. Again, she slept in Hotch's arms. And again she woke up with a little face in front of her. That time no nightmares, just to tell her that the sunshine was out and he wanted to watch cartoons.

It was wonderful.

Also, for some reason that she couldn't fathom, Hotch was even more affectionate with her this weekend than usual. She figured it had something to do with whatever had been bothering him Saturday morning. But with all of the hugs for no reason, stroking her hair, and constantly holding her hand . . . as Sunday morning ran into Sunday afternoon, for a little while she almost forgot that they weren't just playing house. It started to feel so real.

And then they went home.

It was the first time she'd ever cried when they left her. The first time she ever wished that she could just open her mouth and say, 'I love you, please don't leave.'

And that's why she wanted to talk to someone who might understand.

She just wanted someone to listen to her. Someone she trusted who'd tell her that she wasn't crazy for putting her heart through the rinse cycle.

Richard gave her a soft smile, "I knew that your mother was included in your request honey. And trust me, she and I each have our share of secrets. It's the nature of our work, so it's not really that much of an imposition to add one more to the list."

In fact he had a good number of secrets about Emily that he'd kept from his wife. Some were important things, some insignificant in the grand scheme.

The important ones were related to dangers on her job. Her mother didn't need to know about those. It was his job to keep Elizabeth from worrying too much about things that she couldn't control.

No . . . it was enough that he worried for the both of them.

The other things he kept from his wife were just little things. Things he'd known that she wouldn't have approved of so he'd kept them from her simply in an effort to keep peace between the two loves of his life.

Like not mentioning to Elizabeth that Emily had gone to the gala in September with Hotchner.

That was just one in a long line of tiny omissions he'd kept from his wife reaching all the way back into Emily's childhood.

The time his daughter had gotten drunk off champagne flutes at an embassy party, finding her with a pack of cigarettes, calling her seventh grade English teacher . . . to his face . . . a sexist, fascist pig.

That last one was actually true. Well, part of it anyway. Even though he was a teacher at the American school in Moscow, he was on a confidential CIA communist watch list.

Not that Emily knew that when she was thirteen.

No, she just hated him because he gave her an F on her English paper. He'd forced them to read _Wuthering Heights_ and his daughter HATED that book with a passion. Her teacher was a fan of Ms. Bronte's and did not care for Emily's rather colorful critique of both Catherine and Heathcliff.

Respective critiques being, _her_ need for a "full front lobotomy," and _his_ need for a "swift kick in the ass."

Richard simply threatened Mr. Sullivan with exposure for his subversive activities and Emily's grade was miraculously changed to an A minus. Richard had felt no guilt for that one. After reading his daughter's paper it was clear to him that she'd deserved the high mark, the teacher just didn't care for her outspoken nature. He was a constant thorn in his daughter's side. Unfortunately the school wasn't large enough for her to transfer so she had to stay until the end of the semester.

But just for fun Richard outed him the day Emily's final report card came out.

Elizabeth never knew anything about the whole ordeal.

He and his wife had a good marriage, they loved each other, but sometimes he felt more loyal to his daughter than his spouse. Perhaps it was because Emily was his flesh and blood. Perhaps it was that . . . plus the fact that she looked exactly like her mother did thirty years ago.

Whatever it was, it was what allowed him to make the promise to her that he just had. Whatever she told him . . . he would keep it from his wife.

Emily took a breath as she looked over at her father, and then she said quietly, "I'm in love with Hotch, but he doesn't know."

Wow . . . it was weird saying it out loud. Like somebody was going to come along and arrest her or something.

Richard smiled supportively, "I know that you're in love with your boss pumpkin."

Well, this was a momentous day! His daughter had confided in him . . . about a relationship. It had honest to God never happened before.

Her eyes widened, "how do you know that?"

Was she wearing a sign?

He tipped his head, "I saw you two at the gala," seeing the funny look Emily gave him, Richard suddenly remembered his 'observations' that evening and he quickly clarified, "just for a second, as you were leaving. I saw you together. And then when I spoke to you and Hotchner on your birthday," he gave her a knowing look, "you know the birthday trip was pretty telling about the depth of your relationship."

No man who works seventy hours a week whisks a woman off for a mini-vacation just because it's her birthday. Not unless he's head over heels in love.

She looked over at him in puzzlement, "but daddy there is no relationship," at his look she rolled her eyes, "I mean, there IS a relationship but, I'm not sure," she hedged, "I'm not a hundred percent sure that he feels the same way about me that I feel about him."

And that was what was bothering her today. After their wonderful weekend, after playing house for two days and two nights, how could he just . . . go home?

She'd wanted him to stay so badly. She'd wanted him to tell her that he was going to drop Jack off at Haley's and then come back to her house and they would have dinner and he would sleep in her bed again.

But he hadn't said those things.

Instead he'd just given her a hug and kissed her cheek as he told her that he'd see her in the morning. There was nothing wrong with what he'd said, or done. It was perfectly sweet.

Perfectly Hotch.

But as she'd shut the door behind him, that's when she'd started to have that small doubt about his feelings. That if they could spend that much time together, curled up in bed, on the couch, making meals, playing with his son . . . all that time . . . and then he just . . . left.

Maybe he still only saw her as just a friend.

And if that was the case, well, then maybe he'd never see her as anything more.

That's when she'd started to cry. Because she kind of had long term plans for the happily ever after. If the groom wasn't ever going to be ready to come to the wedding she sort of needed to know that sooner or later.

Richard's lip quirked up in amusement . . . for someone so smart she could also be quite blind. He took a sip of the water the waiter had just put on the table before answering her firmly, "he does feel the same way."

Her brow furrowed, "but . . ."

He shook his head, "no buts, he does Emily. Trust me on this one. So if that's your concern here, if that's what's bothering you, you can put that worry out of your head. I will say with absolute certainty that Aaron Hotchner is very much in love with you," he gave her a knowing look, "are you forgetting about your daisy birthday cake."

That was the moment that he'd realized Hotchner was in love with his daughter. And if he could see that from four thousand miles away, how could she not see the truth of that when it was right in front of her?

Emily's face lit up . . . she _had_ forgotten about her daisy birthday cake! Her favorite flower. She'd adored that cake. And Hotch had it made especially for her.

To make her happy.

A little smile spread across Emily's face . . . okay, maybe her dad was right. And then she suddenly processed the other words her father had said, '_Aaron Hotchner is very much in love with you_.'

She'd never heard anyone say it before.

Her father saying it, and reminding her of that cake, pushed aside those little doubts in her head.

It wasn't just wishful thinking that maybe someday they'd be happy together. Because somebody else, somebody objective . . . somebody who would never tell her something that he thought would set her up for disappointment . . . had just told her that the man that she was in love with, loved her too.

That was exactly what she needed to hear.

But her smile lost it's brightness as she remembered her other worries. She looked back at her father, "thanks dad. It's nice to hear it from someone else. But," she sighed, "it's not just that, so I still can't say anything. My main worry about telling him now is that I'm afraid of moving him into something that he's not ready for yet," she took a sip of her Coke, "he did just get divorced."

Richard's brow darkened slightly, "when did he get divorced?"

After Emily took another sip she answered, "March," and Richard's eyebrow relaxed as he huffed slightly, "pumpkin, that's not '_just_'. That was three seasons ago," he reached over to pick up her hand, "and I'm sure Emily, from everything I've heard about him that he's a good man. So if he makes you happy then you should say something," he pressed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, "you know I just want the best for you."

He knew his daughter wanted a family and he also knew that she was of an age where she really needed to get moving on that. Wasting time didn't seem to be in anyone's best interest.

Starting to feel emotional, Emily blinked away the tears as she smiled, "Hotch is the best. He's a good man. You'd really like him dad."

As he placed her hand back on the table Richard's lip quirked up, "does that mean I can meet him now? You have been blocking introductions for almost three years."

Emily smiled softly, "you can't meet him just yet. I want us to figure this out first. But maybe in a couple of months."

Perhaps Christmas. That would be nice.

Then she rolled her eyes internally . . . she was getting ahead of herself. Meet the Parents came after declarations, NOT before.

Richard looked over at her in surprise, "wow, I've never even gotten a 'soon' out of you before Emily Rose. This is a big day."

Usually he got a noncommittal, "maybe," which they both knew meant 'never in a million years.'

Emily sat back, staring at her father for a moment before she dropped her eyes to the tablecloth and said softly, "well Hotch is different."

Hotch was different from the majority of her ex-boyfriends in a thousand different ways. For starters, he had a job, never once had started a sentence with the word "dude" and lastly, he had no visible tattoos. Actually, she knew from their showering adventures post his shooting, that Hotch had no tattoos period.

But those were just the superficial differences.

The thing that really made him different was that he was the one. The one she wanted to father her children, the one she wanted to spent the rest of her life with.

And _that's_ why he was on the waiting list to meet her dad.

The waiter had just put their sandwiches down on the table when Emily's phone began to vibrate.

Giving her father an apologetic smile, she picked up her cell and glanced at the caller ID, "sorry dad, it's Hotch and he knows that I'm having lunch with you so it must be important."

He'd actually rearranged an interview just so she'd be free to meet her dad so she knew it was probably an emergency.

Swallowing his bite of his sandwich Richard nodded, "of course honey."

They were always on duty. It was a sad fact of life.

Emily smiled her thanks as she opened her phone. But then he noticed that she immediately dropped her eyes and spoke in a tone usually reserved for a lover.

"Hey, do you need me back?"

Hotch cringed slightly as she answered, "I do. And I'm sorry for interrupting lunch but we have to go soon. We have a missing child out in Vegas. Wheels up in ninety minutes."

He knew Emily hardly ever saw her father so he'd put off calling her for as long as possible. Her absence hadn't caused them any further delay though. Morgan was on his way back from a deposition so even if Emily was here now they weren't doing the briefing until the plane anyway.

Therefore he'd seen no reason to call her back to the office before she'd had a chance to at least see her father.

'Missing child' had barely passed Hotch's lips before Emily was pulling out her wallet, "on my way. See you in twenty-five."

Her father had no problems with her cutting lunch short for work but he scowled slightly at her time estimation. She'd kill herself getting to Quantico in twenty five minutes. Then he chuckled as he heard her repeat back in amusement, "FINE, I'll see you in _forty."_

Yes, this was definitely the man for his daughter.

On the other end of the line Hotch rolled his eyes, "that's better. Just drive safely," he added drolly, "I promise we won't leave without you."

She laughed, "you better not," as she stood up she added softly, "I'd keep talking while I ran to the car but I have to say goodbye to my dad. I'll see you in a bit."

The last thing she heard as the phone clicked was, "drive the speed limit Prentiss!"

Her mouth quivered before she looked over at her father with a little pout, "sorry daddy. We're wheels up at three o'clock so I need to run," she started to throw money on the table but her father put up his hand as he rolled his eyes, "Emily Rose, have you ever paid for a meal in my presence?"

With a chuckle she began stuffing her cash back into her wallet, "sorry, habit," she winked at him, "somebody taught me to pay my own way in life."

It was a good rule. Both literally and figuratively. She was never indebted to anyone. And in fact, with the exception of Hotch and her dad, generally speaking Emily didn't allow other people to cover her tab.

Well, there was Dave too. She allowed him to pay for things. But Dave didn't count. He had more money than God and he got genuinely annoyed with her when she tried to cover a meal.

The first time she grabbed a check, probably four or five months after he'd returned to the BAU, he'd scowled and snatched it out of her hands. And it was a real scowl, not an amused one. So she decided then that maybe it wasn't such a big deal if he occasionally covered her burger and coke.

Her father nodded his approval as he stood up to say goodbye, "good girl," he pulled her into a hug, holding her close for a moment as he rubbed her back, "be safe."

Though her job had always been dangerous, ever since she'd been held hostage a few months ago he'd been a bit more wary about her cases. Of course that wasn't the first time his daughter had gotten into a scrape over the years. She's gotten nicked with a bullet when she was a rookie. That was one thing that he couldn't hide from Elizabeth, and that incident had scared the hell out of her mother.

Him too actually. If he was honest with himself.

And then there were a few other scars that his daughter carried. Not only from what happened when she was fifteen, but other injuries she'd suffered that he knew about even though she had kept the circumstances themselves from her parents.

But a good father watched over his daughter . . . even if it was from a distance. So given her history, he was blaming his new found sentimentality on his encroaching old age.

He'd be sixty next year.

His awareness of his own creeping mortality was probably making him a bit more cognizant of his daughter's as well.

No parent can bear the thought of outliving his child.

Emily kissed her father's cheek, "I promise dad, I'm always careful," then she added one more thing to alleviate his concerns, "and Hotch pretty much partners us together most of the time now anyway, so he'll have my back."

Not that she didn't trust all of them with her life, she did. But she knew that her father had developed a partiality to Hotch. A partiality which was quite understandable to her given her own partiality to the man in question. So she figured it would make her father feel a little better to know that she was hardly ever in the field now unless Hotch was nearby.

Richard leaned back, remembering his phone conversation with her boss. The conversation where he promised to keep her safe . . . always.

So Richard nodded his approval at his daughter's statement, "good, Hotchner and I have an understanding."

Though she knew she had to run, Emily still paused, staring at her father for a moment. Given how overprotective these two men were she had a pretty good idea what their understanding was.

And she wasn't so sure she approved.

So before she left on yet another case with an unknown outcome, she realized something needed to be said. And she made sure to give her father a hard look as she said it.

"Dad, if something ever goes wrong you can't blame him. You always remember that if God forbid the worst happens, that if it was within his power he would have saved me."

That's all she needed, to take a bullet to the head and then her father kills Hotch for not watching out for her.

Rather than getting defensive at her tone, Richard's eyes crinkled in amusement, "that's because he loves you. And that's why I have an understanding with him. He'll look after you the way I would," his tone softened, "I promise I would never blame him Emily . . . he'd be blaming himself."

Feeling her eyes starting to get moist, Emily quickly blinked the tears away as she nodded, "okay then," she paused as she turned towards the door, "I'll call you when I get back. Maybe we can try this again. If not lunch there's always Thanksgiving."

Her father sat back down, "I might be away for Thanksgiving," seeing her expression, he quickly added in a firm tone, "you still have to go Emily. You can't use my absence as an excuse to avoid seeing your mother on a holiday," his brow darkened, "you'd break her heart."

He might sometimes feel more protective of his daughter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give her an earful if she did something that resulted in him coming home to find his wife upset.

Elizabeth didn't cry often, she wasn't emotional, but that didn't mean she didn't feel things deeply. And after forty-two years of marriage he could certainly tell when Emily had done something that hurt her mother.

Avoiding her mother on major holidays was something that his daughter had done in the past. It was understood now that unless there was a major emergency at work, she was not to do it again.

Emily was about to protest that she wouldn't do something like that but, given her track record, it would have been an obvious lie. So she gave him a weary nod, "fine," then she brightened as she blew him a kiss, "love you."

"Love you too pumpkin," Richard waved once more as she turned, hurrying across the restaurant and heading for the door.

His lip quirked up in amusement as he saw Emily pulling out her cell phone again just as she stepped into the revolving door.

'_Calling Hotchner back no doubt.' _

He picked up his sandwich, nodding firmly to himself as he took another bite.

'_Well, as soon as she gets it together I can at least be guaranteed to have good looking grandchildren.'_

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_A/N 2: In this episode in canon, Emily actually is wearing a an unusual pendant. It's close enough to shape and color to what's I've described that I've decided she actually was wearing her birthday present from Hotch :) That's why I decided to include it here before she got on the plane. Her pendant didn't exist in The Hours, (I hadn't created it yet) so somebody pointed out when she got it that I'm going to have to address that somehow when I do my Hours tidying. I haven't decided if I'll just write in its existence or perhaps have it get lost at some point in Girl and that's why she doesn't have it when the other story starts. That's why I set up the point above about not wearing it on the job if she can help it. Having it get lost or 'ickified' would be a suitably upsetting chapter :)_

_Because her dad never had a "live" appearance in Girl, I have a lot more freedom with him here than I do anyone else in their lives. There's no Girl canon to preclude his knowledge of their relationship, or at this point simply their feelings. Given the timing of Girl, first week of January, we can assume the men didn't meet over the holidays. Though I may rectify that when I clean The Hours up. _

_I'm thinking about moving the timeframe of that story up to just before Christmas instead of just after. Which brings me to another point, if I do that, I'm going to be taking the Hours down earlier than I'd_ _planned. I need to clean it up and the moment it looks like I'm about ready to roll into that stage of their lives, I need to have those first chapters spiffed up all ready to go back up again. So, once we get to the end of November in their world, I'll give you a heads up if I'm taking The Hours off the site. I know some of you like to read it so if you want to make a copy or something I'll let you know in plenty of time so that you can do that :) I need to take it down completely because beyond just cleaning up what I put up the first time, I'm also planning on inserting some additional chapters to it as well. I have a much better handle on the characters now than I did then. I could probably add in some scenes with them interacting with the team, maybe going with her for treatment. Not tons of stuff, just round it out a bit so overall it'll be a bit longer and a fuller read when it's all back up again. And I can't start fussing with it until I'm done with Girl. I want it to be a smooth transition between the two and that's not going to happen until I know exactly where I'm ending this one._

_Little bit of foreshadowing with her dad's thoughts about her being ill. I also pulled some threads from both prior chapters of Girl and The Hours with some of his thoughts about her childhood. _

_Emily's analogy with her Dad and Australia – that was for you Arc :)_

_The next one is just about done. If you'll recall, that's the episode with Emily's hangover the morning after in Vegas. Would you like to know how she got that way? And why Hotch was conspicuously absent from that opening scene?_

_I was planning on saving that for next weekend, but some reviews might get it up to coincide with the next new episode :)_


	115. Under the Influence

**Author's Note**: I finished it! I didn't think that I would but I did. Go me : )

So this is a post ep/pre ep for the little boy missing out in Vegas/Reid finding his dad. It was a two parter and everything ran together there so I had everything run together here.

If you'll recall the ep ended with the Bob Dylan montage showing, among other things, the whole team out laughing and drinking at dinner. Dimples were flashing so clearly Hotch was in a good mood. That's extended out here so it makes the light theme of this chapter work. Otherwise a missing child case probably wouldn't have resulted in quite the same activities they ended up engaging in below.

And if they seem slightly OOC in places, they're supposed to be. I didn't just forget how to write them :) As you read, keep in mind the title of the chapter.

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Episodes – The Instincts/Memoriam

**Under the Influence**

"Ready?"

Hotch's words were slightly slurred as he looked over at Emily. She nodded back firmly, "ready," and they both pounded back their shots. A second later their glasses slammed down on the bar in synchronicity and Emily grinned at him as she wiped her thumb along the corner of her lip.

"I'm winning!"

It took considerable effort for Hotch to not roll his eyes at that pronouncement. Instead he just pulled her to his chest and looked down, shaking his head sadly, "sorry sweetheart, but you're down three beers and two shots."

Again he noticed a slight drag to his words. That meant it was probably time to start thinking about shutting this night down. By his count . . . and he was indeed counting . . . he'd had six shots of tequila. Plus . . . he squinted as he counted back . . . seven beers.

After they had dinner out with the team . . . a dinner that had included two beers and a two glasses of wine respectively . . . Emily had challenged him to a drinking contest. She said it was Vegas and because neither of them gambled, they should do something they wouldn't normally do. He'd of course said no. He'd said no quite emphatically.

But then she'd broken out that damn pout.

So now here they were, five hours later in the hotel/casino bar, downing shots. They'd started their contest with a trip through the beers of Oktoberfest and now they'd moved onto tequila. Thank God they'd had dinner! But even with the food soaking up the alcohol he knew that they were both still headed for some epic headaches in the morning.

That wasn't a concern of his at the moment though. Because at the moment . . . he felt Emily's breath against his throat . . . he was having a really good time.

Not to mention . . . he was totally kicking her ass!

It was barely even a contest.

Not that he should really rank this evening's outing high on his list of life's accomplishments. He did outweigh her by fifty pounds. The only real embarrassment here would have been if she'd kicked his ass.

He didn't consider himself to be a chava . . . chava . . . chava . . . shit! He scowled for a second . . . what was that word?

And then it came to him . . . chauvinist!

No, he certainly didn't consider himself to be one of those. Definitely not . . . he smacked Emily on the ass . . . this woman right here . . . she was his girl and he had nothing but respect for her.

But still . . . he was a man. And he had his pride. There was NO way he was letting her drink him under the table. Not that they were at a table. They were at the bar.

His brow wrinkled as he suddenly noticed Emily staring at him.

'_Why is she giving me that look?'_

Emily looked up at Hotch in astonishment before she started to giggle, "you just slapped my ass!"

He wasn't quite as drunk as he was the night they went to Smokey's, but he was still a few steps beyond simply buzzed. She knew that she was drunk too. But it was a silly drunk, not the falling down kind.

Basically she was just enjoying herself immensely.

This contest had started out as just a fun way to kill the night after the rest of the team went off on their merry little ways. But now she couldn't believe that she hadn't gotten him to do it before! The divorce outing didn't count because he was all depressed and his life was falling apart.

He wasn't exactly a barrel o'laughing monkeys that night.

But they'd had a good day today. They'd gotten that little boy back in his own bed tonight. The UNSUB was off the streets, and with her mental history there was little chance of her getting out again.

It was a win all around. And that was a rarity for them.

So tonight, for a surprising change after a missing child case, Hotch was actually in a good mood. And good mood Hotch with alcohol in his system was hilarious because he had no filter at all.

Random utterances:

_. . . He'd had once had a dream that Garcia's troll doll collection tried to kill him. The next day he banned them from the conference room under the pretext that they were unprofessional. In reality they just scared the shit out of him._

_. . . Strauss action figures should come with a broom and a caldron_

_. . . Dave, with a mullet, got more ass in the eighties than Derek has his entire adult life_

_. . . Two weeks ago Hotch had gotten a complaint that one of his female agents was using the men's room. Turned out the 'female agent' was Reid. The next day Hotch had to have an awkward conversation with Spencer about considering a haircut that wasn't quite so androgynous._

Emily laughed so hard at that last one she had to run to the bathroom before she wet her pants.

This was one of the best nights they'd ever had. And she could tell from the indignant scowl on his face that she was about to have even more fun with him.

"I didn't slap your ass," Hotch scoffed dismissively as he turned to wave the bartender over again.

Like he would ever do something like that. He'd never slapped a woman's ass in his life. That's something Dave would do.

Emily snorted as she started to undo her belt buckle, "you want to see the handprint?"

Not that she was really going to drop trou in the casino bar. But the threat would definitely scare the shit out of him!

"NO!" Hotch grabbed her hand, "Jesus Christ Emily keep your pants on!"

For Christ's sake they were in the middle of the Bellagio!

It took her only a second to start giggling again as she leaned against him, "you know that's usually just something people say. I don't think anyone's ever told me to keep my pants on and meant it literally."

And that's why she threatened to take them off. Just to get a rise out of him.

As her body pressed against his, Hotch wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up. And then his mouth started to quiver listening to her giggle fit.

She was so cute.

But . . . she bounced her head off of his chest . . . she had just tried to take her pants off in public. And she was now bouncing her head against his chest like she needed a helmet.

It was probably time to call it a night.

So he tipped his head down and whispered, "I think we've had enough to drink sweetheart. We should probably get to bed."

It had to be after one.

Emily's head whipped up in horror, "WHAT?! No!" she pouted, "Aaron please can we stay out a little longer? We never do anything like this at home."

Seeing his eyes squinting at her she knew that he was trying to decide what to do. So she decided to take advantage of their inebriated state to get away with something that she couldn't do sober.

She leaned up and sucked his earlobe into her mouth, running her tongue along the shell of his ear before she whispered to him again, "please?"

Trying very hard to keep his breathing under control . . . that woman could push buttons he didn't know he had . . . Hotch looked down at Emily again, "fine." Then his eyebrow rose in amusement, "but I probably would have agreed even if you hadn't tongued my ear."

With a grin she wrapped her arms around his neck, "yeah, but I couldn't risk it."

As his mouth twitched and his arms came around her body again, locking at her lower back, he realized that they were getting entirely too familiar with one another in public. He wasn't concerned about their behavior in principle . . . their displays of affection for one another were never a concern with him. Emily sticking her tongue in his ear was just Emily having fun.

And hell, that was fun for everyone!

But he just didn't want anyone on the team coming along and seeing them like this. It wouldn't look good.

Actually . . . he felt her sliding her hands under his jacket . . . it would look really bad.

Yeah . . . he took one hand off of her ass to wave down the bartender . . . they needed to get out of here.

The woman came over and smiled at him, "another round?"

With a shake of his head, Hotch started pulling money out of his wallet, "no actually, we're going to cash out," as he heard Emily start to whine, "but Aaaaron you said . . ." against his chest he quickly added, "though if you could give me a bottle of Patron to take to our room, thanks."

The bartender looked askance at him for a moment so he dug out another hundred and dropped that on top of the money for the bill and the bottle of liquor. Then he flashed her both of his dimples, "I know it's against policy but we'd really appreciate it."

He wasn't entirely sure if the dimples would work when he had another woman wrapped around him. But to his amazement . . . they did.

As most women did when he flashed the full wattage of his smile, the bartender immediately grinned back.

"Well, I suppose it's okay as long as you're not leaving the hotel."

She reached under the bar and pulled out a full silver bottle. And moments like this made him wonder why he didn't just pull out the dimples more often. He'd probably make a lot faster progress in his interviews if he did.

Well . . . he watched the bartender stuff the hundred down her shirt . . . with the women anyway.

Realizing he was now staring at the woman's breasts he quickly looked away. If Emily saw him do that he was dead. He snuck another peek . . . but God she had nice tits!

Emily rolled her head so that she could see the other woman clearly, "nope, we're most definitely not leaving the hotel," she nuzzled Hotch's neck before she purred, "we're going to my room right honey?"

Not that Emily planned on seducing Hotch this evening.

Definitely NO.

She wasn't about to let a meaningless Vegas roll in the hay get in the way of her happily ever after plans. And even though she'd actually been joking with this bartender earlier, Emily didn't much care for the googely eyes that she was flashing at the future father of her children now.

Not that she was going to be a bitch about it, the girl was funny and she seemed nice, Emily was just staking prior claim. She knew Hotch had to flirt to get the bottle, but she wasn't tolerating any flirting back.

Not when he'd been drinking this much.

Earlier a horrible thought had come to her . . . what if he decided he wanted to get laid! She knew that he . . . like she . . . hadn't had sex in a LONG time. And this was Vegas after all. That's what men did here. They came and had meaningless sex with strange women because they were sure they were never going to see them again.

Hell, that's what Dave and Morgan were out doing right now!

So even if her father might have assured her that Aaron Francis Hotchner was in love with her, she couldn't risk him getting drunk and doing something stupid. Doing something stupid that she'd have to kill him for later even though she technically held no claim to him.

Basically she was making damn sure that drunk Hotch didn't get any on her watch.

Always enjoying the privilege of watching Jealous Emily make one of her rare appearances, Hotch smirked as his hand slid around to her hip, "yes sweetheart," he kissed her temple, "we're going to your room."

He knew better than to mess with Jealous Emily. If she was making a point for their comely bartender he had no intention of contradicting the impression she was making. And as far as hellish assignments went, having a beautiful woman that he was in love with plaster herself to his body, well . . . he felt her slide her hand along his belt buckle . . . he'd be willing to suffer through the indignity.

The bartender leaned over the bar top and lowered her voice, "hey, I get off at two. You guys looking for some company?"

These two were the best looking couple she'd seen in awhile.

Hotch's eyes popped out . . . holy shit! That backfired!

And the last time he was propositioned for a threesome he was in college. God knows he'd never had any interest in participating, but he just couldn't for the life of him remember how to politely decline. But fortunately Emily stepped up as she leaned towards the bartender with a grin, "maybe next time hon," she rubbed Hotch's stomach, "he's a little tired," she winked at the other woman, "we might break him."

She only had to be mean to the woman if she was flirting with just Hotch. But if she wanted to have sex with both of them . . . well, Emily had to be polite. After all, even if Hotch did get drunk and do something stupid she knew that there was no way in hell anyone as straight laced as him would ever entertain the idea of a threesome. Not that Emily would either.

But now with her offer . . . the hot bartender with the perky breasts Hotch was just staring at . . . had nullified herself as competition.

At the woman's responding laughter . . . a deep and throaty sound . . . Hotch's ears perked up.

Huh . . . with an appraising eye he looked down at Emily and then over to the shapely breasts being shoved in his face. Well maybe if . . . and then his senses came roaring back and kicked the tiny little Dave part of his brain out of the driver's seat.

Idiot.

'_First of all you're not actually sleeping with Emily! Not yet anyway. And you're sure as hell not going to start that aspect of your relationship as a drunken threesome with your hot bartender!'_

He eyed the blonde's cleavage longingly one more time . . . no matter how nice her breasts.

With a chuckle the woman slid the bottle of alcohol across to Emily, and then she scribbled down her phone number on a cocktail napkin.

"Well, if you two change your mind, or," she smirked at Emily, "you break him and you're looking for someone else to play with, just give me a ring."

Emily looked down at the napkin with a little smile . . . Missy . . . this was too funny. She looked back up with a saucy grin, "Missy, I promise if I do break him tonight you will be the first one I call," she picked up the bottle, passing it to Hotch as she waved at the woman, "now you have a good night."

And with that pronouncement Emily looked up at Hotch, "come on hon," she winked, "I'm starting to sober up."

He smirked, "well, can't have that," he shot a dimple at Missy as they walked away, "maybe we'll see you later."

She yelled back, "I hope so!" and almost instantaneously Hotch felt Emily's nails dig into his stomach. Fortunately he had years of self discipline to call on to keep from reacting, but as soon as they were clear from the bartender he looked down at her.

"What? You're the one who was flirting with her," he added drily, "I was just being polite."

Emily rolled her eyes, "polite my ass, you were checking out her tits."

Like he didn't know his little comment was going to get him in trouble.

His eyes widened in indignation, "she was shoving them in my face! What else was I supposed to look at?"

For Christ's sake it was like a solar eclipse. He knew Emily was going to kill him for it . . . yet . . . he couldn't look away.

"And besides," he added with a scoff, "you were the one she really wanted, not me."

At the slight scowl on his face Emily's irritation with him faded and she started to giggle again, "um, are you jealous or offended?"

His brow wrinkled and then he shook his head as he looked down at her, "you know, I'm not quite sure."

Emily chuckled as she wrapped her arm around his waist, "you know she really wasn't my type. You know what with not having a penis or anything."

He snorted and pulled her closer to his side.

'_Yeah, he was pretty far gone if he was jealous of other WOMEN now!'_

As they continued along towards the elevators Emily became less cooperative on the forward momentum front. She kept stopping to look and point at people.

Hotch sighed . . . apparently anything shiny was going to keep catching her eye. And as he looked wearily ahead, he knew that the elevator banks were still a bit of a hike.

This was Vegas after all and their hotel was enormous.

He grunted as she tugged on his arm again . . . at this rate they'd be getting to the elevators about in time to catch the jet home.

So he did what he had a vague memory of doing once before . . . he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

Again, it was Vegas so nobody paid them any attention. And it was a straight shot to the elevator from their position now. And though her continuous giggling . . . and the six shots of tequila he'd downed were a slight distraction to him . . . he was doing pretty well making progress across the ground floor.

That was until two burly officers from hotel security stepped out in front of him.

The bigger of the two Conans gestured to Emily's hip, "ma'am, do you have a permit for that?"

That's when Hotch noticed that her weapon was now exposed because she was half over his shoulder.

Before she could respond Hotch answered for her, "she does and she has a badge too. If I may . . ." he gave them an expectant look and they nodded so he slipped two fingers inside his front jacket pocket and pulled out his shield.

While the guard was looking at his badge, Hotch lowered Emily to the ground, tugging her in front of him as he slipped one hand around her waist and the other into her pocket. He knew that she was more than capable of digging out her own credentials, but for some reason he was feeling very possessive and well . . . alpha, at the moment.

Maybe it was the tequila. Hard alcohol did weird things to his brain.

He pulled out her badge and handed that one to the other guard.

Emily very helpfully wrapped her arm around Hotch's neck as she waved with her other hand, "hi, I'm me!"

Feeling his lips begin to twitch, Hotch tightened his hold on her waist, "Agent Prentiss. Her name is Agent Prentiss. And I'm Agent Hotchner and we're just on our way upstairs."

The guard chuckled as he handed Hotch back both sets of credentials, "you two have a good night."

Hotch nodded his thanks as he gave her back her badge, shoving his own into his pocket as they started to walk away. That's when Emily leaned around and called over his shoulder back to the guard, "oh we will have a good night. We might have a threesome later with Missy the hot bartender!"

Not that they really were but the whole idea of it seriously cracked her up.

As Hotch started to chuckle, one of the guards hurried up beside them, "I know Missy. And if you're looking for one more," he gave Hotch a look, "I get off in ten minutes."

Ignoring the snickering woman at his side, Hotch called upon all of his considerable self control as he tipped his head over to Emily and said seriously, "sorry, but she gets jealous."

Emily piped up from under his arm, "I do," and then she took note of the features of the man propositioning them and she grinned, "though you are pretty cute," she reached out and touched his face, "love those dimples."

Of course they weren't as good as Hotch's but . . . whose were?

Hotch's brow darkened as he tugged her back, then he gave the kid a hard look, "sorry, our dance card's full," and with that he took Emily's hand and continued on through the lobby.

Fortunately the elevator banks were just around the corner because he wasn't in the mood to put up with any more . . . distractions, on their way upstairs.

As they stood there waiting in silence for the elevator to arrive Hotch's jaw began to twitch.

Dimples.

The kid HAD to have dimples!

He shot a look down to Emily at his side, but she seemed to be oblivious to his annoyance. And her complete obliviousness about how upset he was irritated him even more.

But his anger was really more at himself than at her. It was his own stupid fault for not making his feelings clear. What the hell did he expect? As far as she knew they were just friends.

Okay, maybe they weren't JUST friends, but they were certainly platonic. So if she wanted to admire some other guy's dimples then how the hell was she supposed to know how pissed off that was going to make him.

Then his anger circled back around . . . but wait though, that was THEIR thing! Her obsession with HIS dimples was their thing! How could she just go touching some other guy's face like that?!

THAT was NOT okay!

Emily tipped her head over to Hotch's shoulder, trying to decide if she should be drinking more tequila or downing a gallon of water. She decided to go with tequila. She was never going to get Hotch this loose again, might as well continue to take advantage. Though . . . she lifted her head up to look at his profile . . . he seemed a little tense.

What's up with him?

As the elevator dinged it's arrival another couple walked up to the doors. They were just about to step on when Hotch shot them a look and they murmured that they'd get the next one.

After the doors shut, Emily finally took note of the tension radiating from Hotch's body and she frowned at him, "are you mad at me?"

Why he'd be mad she didn't know, but he certainly seemed to be.

Hotch's jaw twitched as he jerked his head to the side. Then he swallowed before biting out a clipped, "no."

**YES!!!!!!**

Her brow furrowed in concern . . . well, that didn't sound sincere.

Emily stared at him, trying to dig past the slight marination of her brain to read him like she usually would. Now why would he be angry with her? Why would he suddenly be . . . and then she had it.

Jealous.

He was jealous because of what she'd said to that kid. That's why he was doing a fairly good impression of a stone tablet right now.

Well . . . she pouted at him . . . that was just ridiculous, like she really wanted anyone else. She'd just been distracted by the kid's dimples. She was always distracted by dimples now.

They reminded her of Hotch.

But . . . she sighed . . . Hotch didn't know that. He thought she was flirting right in front of him. And after what her dad had just confirmed for her yesterday, she could see how very uncool that would be. After all, if he'd been feeling up another woman's face in front of her she'd be giving him an extremely cold shoulder right now too.

Amends needed to be made.

So she moved over and wrapped her arms around his waist as she said conversationally, "you know that kid really wasn't that good looking."

Making sure to keep his hands at his side, Hotch glanced down at her dismissively, "really? Because you seemed to think he was pretty cute a few minutes ago."

She rubbed her cheek on his jacket, "yeah, but now I've thought about it. His ears stuck out and he kind of had buck teeth."

Seeing that she was trying to make amends, Hotch felt some of the tension leave his body.

He didn't want to be angry at her.

Why would he want to be angry at her when they were having such a good night? That was stupid.

And a waste of a good time.

His arms slid around her waist and he raised his eyebrow as he asked suspiciously, "and what about the dimples?"

Just because he'd decided he didn't want to be angry didn't mean he was completely okay with what had happened. She'd still hurt his feelings.

But of course Emily's response made it impossible to stay mad at her. She pashaw'ed and rolled her eyes.

"PLEASE! Those are just craters in his face!"

His mouth started to quiver as she leaned back, reaching up to run her hands around his mouth, "now your dimples," she nodded seriously, "THESE babies are dimples. Which is why I always compare all other . . . dimples, to your dimples," and then she gave him a shy smile, "and all of the other dimples always come up lacking."

There . . . even with the alcohol in his system that should be clear to him.

Despite his best efforts, Hotch couldn't stop the superior dimples in question from making an appearance as he grinned like an idiot, "really?"

Every man she meets she compares to him. And they all come up short . . . wow! That was way more than he was expecting. He was just thinking he'd get a sorry for flirting.

She pulled him down, pressing a kiss on his lips before she nodded again seriously, "really, really."

With all the alcohol they'd ingested she couldn't keep her lips off of him tonight. That's okay though, it was Vegas and they'd been drinking. Provided they didn't do anything stupid . . . like totally start making out . . . then all the regular kissing was fine.

Everything would go back to normal when they got home.

Her earlier flirting not only forgiven, but now completely forgotten, Hotch pulled Emily to his chest and dipped his head down next to hers. He placed a kiss on her temple before he whispered, "you have way better breasts than Missy."

Emily snorted and burst out laughing as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, "thank you," then she tipped her head back slightly to give him a happy nod, "and I think now we're even!"

Hotch grinned back at her . . . how could he have gotten pissed off at her about something so stupid. He started to lean in to see if he could get away with stealing one more quick kiss when . . . to his chagrin . . . the elevator doors opened.

And who was standing there?

Dave.

He rolled his eyes . . . great. This was definitely a moment in time that was going to get tossed back in his face.

Ross smirked at the display in front of him. Boy Hotch looked pissed! But he wasn't sure if it was pissed because he'd _caught_ them doing something, or interrupted them _before_ they did something.

Either way he decided to throw some fuel on the fire as he smirked, "get a room."

Hotch rolled his eyes but Emily turned her head to him with a grin, "DAVE!" she leaned back against Hotch's chest, "you'll enjoy this, we just turned down TWO offers for a threesome!"

As he saw Hotch standing behind her turning beet red, Rossi started to crack up, "good call turning those down honey! They're never as much fun as they sound," he winked at her, "too much work."

As she started laughing the door banged against Dave's hand, and he tipped his head towards the empty corridor, "you guys getting off or what?"

She grinned and tugged on Hotch's hand, "we are, we're in the middle of a contest and I'm winning."

Hotch rolled his eyes at Dave as he passed him in the open elevator doorway, "she's not winning. She just thinks she's winning."

Rossi blinked at the smell coming off of both of them as they walked passed.

'_Christ, they'd been drinking! That was a first. But certainly not a moment that could go with comment.'_

So he poked his head around the corner, calling after them, "you kids don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Then he cracked up as he saw Hotch flip him off behind his back.

With a grin, Rossi nodded to himself as he pulled his head in and the elevator doors shut.

'_Good, maybe Hotch will finally get laid.'_

//////////

After they walked into her room Emily insisted on finishing their drinking game. Hotch obliged her because that's what he always did now.

An hour later the small bottle was half empty and Emily starting dropping her clothes on the floor. As much as he was enjoying the show, Hotch stopped her before she pulled her shirt over her head. On slightly unsteady feet he went over and dug her pajamas out of her bag before giving her a little push towards the bathroom.

When Emily came back out a few minutes later she saw that Hotch was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling.

As she realized how bleary he was in her vision, she knew that they'd definitely had more than enough to drink. Basically it was all starting to catch up with them now.

She went over and straddled his waist, dropping down on his stomach.

At his, "oomph," she realized that she might have dropped down a little too hard. She grinned at him as she leaned forward and brushed her fingers through his hair, "sorry honey."

His eyes crinkled as his hands came up to slide along her hips, "s'okay. You can drop on me anytime you want."

And preferably in a few months she'd have a lot less clothes on when she did it.

Yep . . . his fingers slid under the edges of her shirt . . . naked Emily dropping was definitely something to look forward to.

Leaning forward a bit more she placed one hand on either side of his head as she whispered back with a smile, "I'll remember that."

They stared at each other for a second and then he broke the moment by waggling his eyebrows at her.

Emily burst out laughing, "God, you're so adorable," she pressed her lips to his . . . and pulled back to see his raised eyebrow.

"That's all I get for being adorable? A quick peck on the lips? I bet Missy would have at least gone to five Mississippis there."

Ordinarily he wouldn't be taunting her into a make out, but they were now nicely wasted. And they were in Vegas. If he couldn't get a decent kiss from her after they polished off half a bottle of tequila then he was getting a refund on the Patron.

Emily giggled at his Missy comment and then licked her lips as she stared down at him. He was right though. If the kiss was reward for his relative adorability, hell, he should have gotten some tongue for the dimples alone!

And they were both pretty drunk right now so she figured as far as kissing went . . . it was anything goes.

So she was most definitely going to take advantage.

She lowered herself on top of him, her lips coming down to meet his. Then his mouth opened and her tongue slipped inside, running along, tasting the tequila on him just as she knew that he could taste it on her.

This is what Vegas was for . . . she sucked on his tongue . . . getting to do stuff that you couldn't usually do.

And if they had to drink a bottle of tequila to get in a solid kiss to tide her over until things moved to the next step . . . well, that was just fine with her. Things would still be normal between them when they go home.

After all . . . what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas.

As Emily started to pull away Hotch rolled her beneath him, returning the favor as he plundered the depths of her mouth. He wasn't stopping until he had at least one moan, and once he heard it, he pulled back and winked at her, "you're pretty adorable yourself."

Though she was still trying to catch her breath, Emily flashed him a brilliant grin, "thanks."

Hotch stared at her . . . God he wanted to kiss her again. But more kissing would be bad. Anymore kissing would lead to full on making out.

Though, now that a little bit of his brain was trying to be responsible, he realized that continuing to lie on top of her would lead to stuff too.

So he rolled onto his back again.

He lay there for a moment, catching his breath before suddenly realizing that he no longer had a warm body on top of him.

His brow furrowed in confusion . . . where was Emily? With a slight turn of his head he saw that she was a few feet away, lying on the floor looking over at him incredulously, "you dumped me!"

His eyes widened, "oops," he reached for her, "sorry sweetheart," he held out his hand, wiggling his fingers, "come back, I promise I won't do it again."

Christ he was drunk if he was losing her in a simple roll over!

With a pout Emily crawled over and climbed on top of him again. Then she lay her head down on his chest grumbling, "I bet Missy wouldn't have dropped me on the floor."

He started to chuckle as he kissed her head, "I'm sorry sweetheart. In case you haven't noticed, I _have_ been drinking," he huffed, "just be glad I wasn't carrying you. And as to Missy, that might be true, but with those fake boobs of hers I'm pretty sure you'd have a crick in your neck trying to lie on top of her like this."

Emily burst out laughing, "that's true!" she rubbed her hands along his chest, "you see, that's why I keep you around. You're a good pillow."

And to prove her point she cuddled in closer, sighing as his arms wrapped around her. For once she wasn't even cold.

Probably because of all the alcohol.

As Emily's breath began to even out, Hotch rubbed her back, "sweetheart, we can't fall asleep here."

They were going to be a mess in the morning anyway, but bad backs and stiff necks didn't need to be added into the mix. It wasn't like when they deliberately slept on the floor because JJ was over, he didn't even have a frigging pillow!

But as he ran his fingers up and down Emily's back murmuring to her with no response, he realized that she'd already passed out.

He blew out a puff of air . . . great.

As appealing as it would be to simply close his eyes too, he knew that really wasn't an option. And if he didn't move now then the option portion of the evening would be over.

Because he was definitely going to be passing out shortly as well.

So he took a breath . . . made sure to hold Emily tightly to his chest . . . and rolled to the side.

Sober picking her up was a fluid motion. Drunk, well, he wasn't so sure how that was going to go. Therefore he gently placed her on the carpet so he could stand up on his own first.

'_A bit steady, but not tilting at windmills.'_

Okay . . . he psyched himself up . . . you can do this.

He stooped down, catching himself before he toppled over completely, and slipped his arms underneath her body. Once he was sure that not only did he have a good grip . . . but that he was also properly balanced . . . he pulled her to his chest and slowly stood up.

When he found himself completely vertical with her still clutched to his body, he felt a ridiculous surge of pride.

He huffed to himself . . . yeah Aaron . . . maybe they'll make drunk girl lifting an Olympic sport.

Chuckling at his own stupid joke . . . yeah he'd had way too much to drink . . . Hotch went over and placed Emily on the bed. He turned to fix the covers and then moved her over.

After he had her settled, he put his hand on the mattress to steady himself as he kicked off his shoes. And then . . . out of habit . . . he climbed over her and got under the covers.

Per usual he pulled her to his body and wrapped his arms around her waist. And then he pushed her hair back so he could kiss her neck.

No problems there.

It wasn't until he realized that his fingers were tracing circles on her bare skin that he realized he was in trouble. Somehow . . . he wasn't quite sure how . . . his hand had slipped under her t shirt and was sliding along her stomach.

He yanked it back like it was scalded.

SHIT! WHAT THE HELL WAS HE DOING?!

Not that he'd touched her anywhere inappropriately, but still, the point was that he was doing it without thinking.

He did NOT make a habit of putting his hands under Emily's shirt. She might do it to him under the pretext of keeping her hands warm, but it's not like they were working the same equipment under there.

That was a hands off area for him.

So what was he . . . and that's when he felt the twitch and realized that he really wanted to have sex.

Really, REALLY wanted to have sex.

SHIT!

With a groan he rolled onto his back.

It was the God damn tequila!

Hard alcohol and a beautiful woman were a very dangerous combination when you hadn't had sex in over a year.

Christ . . . he rolled his eyes . . . for as well as his libido was running at the moment he might as well take some frigging Viagra while he was at it. Not only did he and Emily not have that kind relationship . . . 'right now' his brain automatically added . . . she was SLEEPING!

Even if sex had been in the cards tonight, it sure as hell wasn't in the cards with her passed out.

He sighed as he shifted more towards the nightstand. Maybe he could just stay on his own side of the bed and things would settle down on their own.

Of course at that moment Emily rolled over and snuggled into his side.

As he felt another inconvenient twitch he realized that he definitely needed to get up before a cold shower was needed.

Okay, this has been fun . . . he scrubbed his hands down his face . . . but it's time to go back to your own room now Aaron.

With a weary sigh he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled across the room to grab his gun and holster off the small table.

But once he reached the corner of the room . . . he put his hand out to steady himself on the arm chair . . . he started feeling a bit queasy.

Probably shouldn't have gotten up so quickly. Or more likely probably shouldn't have been drinking for five hours straight.

Well, whatever it was, he decided that it was best that he sit down for a second until the room stopped spinning.

Less chance that way of falling and cracking his skull on the table.

He dropped down into the wing chair, that'd be a fun thing for Emily to explain to the team tomorrow as they visited him in the hospital.

Yeah . . . Hotch leaned back and closed his eyes . . . I'll just sit here for a minute and everything will be fine.

/////////

Hotch woke up when his head slipped off of his bent arm and slammed into the coffee table beneath him.

"OWWW!"

He rubbed the side of his temple as he looked blearily around the room.

"What the hell am I doing down HERE!?"

The last thing he remembered was sitting down in the chair.

"What the hell was that noise?" came the muffled reply from the lump across the room.

It sounded like one of Kermit's relatives but Hotch squinted and it looked like he could see some snarled brown hair.

His sleep deprived, hung over . . . okay still slightly drunk . . . brain deduced that the members of the Kermit Klan were bald so that was most likely Emily lying in a contorted heap on the bed.

"Emily."

Hotch winced, '_since when was his voice so loud?'_

He tried again a little bit softer, "Emily."

Better. Though now he could hear cursing from the Emily lump.

Emily lifted her head, and through the hair hanging in her face, she could see Hotch sitting on the floor hunched over the coffee table. He was squinting and rubbing his temple.

"Hotch?" Emily pushed herself up further as she yawned, "what are you doing on the floor?"

Actually a better question was, what was she doing in the bed? How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was being over there with him.

Hotch pushed himself up and into the end chair behind him.

"I think I started here and then ended up down there."

Emily gave him a sleepy nod, "okay, one question answered," then she made an awful face as she smacked her lips, "so now can you tell me why it tastes like something died in mouth?"

She was posing that as a rhetorical question, but to her surprise Hotch actually answered her as he dropped his head down to his knees.

"That would be the worm that you ate out of the tequila bottle," he yawned, "I told you it was a bad idea."

Now fully awake and her eyes bugging out, Emily clamped her hand over her mouth.

"WORM?! OH GOD!"

Her gag reflex fully activated, Emily leapt out of bed and sprinted into the bathroom.

With an exhausted sigh Hotch got up and followed after her, tripping over first his shoe and then her boot. He caught himself the first time with a hand on the corner of the bed, and the second time with his face on the carpet.

Yeah . . . he rolled his eyes . . . this was a good time.

He might have been slightly delayed, but even with errant footwear trying to kill him, Emily was still over the bowl when he got into the bathroom.

Lucky him.

That's okay . . . he rubbed his hand down his face . . . he remembered this part from Haley's pregnancy.

He leaned down, putting his hand on Emily's back as he pulled her hair back from her face.

"I told you it was a bad idea to eat the worm," he muttered under his breath.

Emily took a gulping breath as she turned to him incredulously, "are you really saying 'I told you so' to me RIGHT NOW!? NOW," her voice went up a pitch, "with my head in the toilet?! If you thought it was such a bad idea then you should have stopped me from doing it!"

And with that final pronouncement she turned her head back to the bowl to try out some dry heaving.

Hotch rolled his eyes as he remembered that part too. The part where it was all _his_ fault that the woman was throwing up.

This really was a lovely trip down memory lane. But of course he still stayed with her.

Annoyed or not . . . he rubbed her back . . . he'd never leave her alone if she was sick.

A minute later Emily put her hand back on his knee to leverage herself up.

Hotch put his arm around her waist to help her stand and then he tilted his head down to catch her eyes.

"Better now?"

She nodded a little unsteadily, "yes actually, much better," she grimaced as she rubbed her temple, "though my head's killing me and I am very much in need of some mouthwash," she leaned closer to sniff him, then she winced, "actually Aaron, and you know I say this with all due affection, but," she patted his cheek, "you really need to brush your teeth right now."

God . . . his breath smelled terrible!

His mouth gaping, Hotch looked at her in shock for a moment before he pushed past her to the sink.

UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!

With an angry grunt he took the toothpaste out of her travel bag and started squeezing it onto her toothbrush. Then he began muttering to himself around said toothbrush, "I need to brush MY teeth. I only smell like stale alcohol, SHE smells like stale alcohol, dead insects and vomit, but NO, _I'm_ the one that needs to brush his teeth. Of all the stupid frigging . . ."

Taking a moment to look up and glare at her in the mirror, Hotch suddenly saw that her eyes were welling up.

'_Oh no! You've GOT to be kidding me!'_

He whipped around, accidentally spitting toothpaste on her as he exclaimed, "are you CRYING!?"

_Why _was she crying?!

Her face crumpled up as she bit her lip, "why do you have to be so MEAN!?"

"MEAN!?"

Hotch was simultaneously horrified that she thought he was mean, that she was crying over essentially who had the worst _morning breath_, and really . . . mostly . . . that she was crying at all.

Her crying, no matter how inane the reason, was _always_ REALLY upsetting!

So he tried, rather pathetically, to fix whatever it was that had just upset her.

"I'm not being mean, you're just . . ." he looked closely at her eyes, "apparently still, really, drunk. Crap."

His last words all ran together as the light suddenly dawned on him. And then he thought back over his own actions the past few minutes.

Saying 'I told you so' to her as she was tossing up a tequila worm really wasn't his finest hour. Why DID he do that? And he was resentful that she was sick, and then he kind of implied that she was stupid.

She was right . . . he felt a twist in his gut . . . that was mean. Basically he was just being an asshole to her for no reason at all.

OH GOD!

His eyes widened in horror . . . he was still drunk too!

And he was at that horrible cranky stage where he shouldn't be around anyone. He looked down at his watch.

4:35 a.m.

They were up drinking hard alcohol until at least two . . . so yeah there was no way that they were anything approaching sober yet.

God DAMN it!

He thought he was just a little bit drunk, but if he was being this much of an ass to her there was clearly more than just a little bit of alcohol in his system right now.

Turning back to the sink, he hurriedly spit, rinsed off the brush and put toothpaste back on it again. Then he handed it to Emily who was sniffling as she looked over at him in a slight daze.

Remembering what a complete dick he'd just been to her, he made sure to soften his tone when he spoke, "come on sweetheart, brush, spit, rinse. We need to get a lot more sleep before the sun comes up."

As she started to brush her teeth he shook his head at her in the mirror, "we cannot show up drunk at the jet. I just can't list the number of things wrong with that scenario."

Just in principle that would be horrible! And they certainly couldn't show up drunk TOGETHER! But especially not after he'd given Derek that big lecture about not doing anything stupid tonight.

He'd never hear the end of it if Morgan saw the two of them dragging their asses onto the plane.

Emily rinsed her mouth and dropped her toothbrush into the glass by the sink. After clearing her throat she murmured softly, "I'm done."

She knew she really wasn't in any position to be making decisions about their plan of action, so she was happy to let him take the lead.

Even if he was kind of grumpy.

At her subdued tone, for the first time since they woke up, Hotch looked closely at her.

She really was a mess.

Her hair was in clumps and her eyes were glassy with black mascara rings under them. And then there was the toothpaste in her hair.

The toothpaste that he had spit on her when he was yelling.

She looked vulnerable and he felt . . . bad.

Very . . . _very_ . . . bad.

He'd been mean to her. How could he ever be mean to her?

She was his Emily.

He could feel the lines in his face soften as he pulled her into his arms, "I'm sorry sweetheart," he turned his head to whisper in her ear, "I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Emily bit her lip as she hugged him back, "well, I'm sorry I cried."

Yeah, he had been really grumpy. But she'd never cried just because a man snapped at her. If that was true, between Gideon and Reid she would have spent the first year in the unit walking around with a box of Kleenex under her arm.

Stepping back, Hotch gave her a sad smile as he wiped the toothpaste from her hair. Then he took her hand and started guiding her back into the room.

When they walked out of the bathroom Emily picked up the thread of what she'd just been saying.

"I cry sometimes when I drink tequila," she shook her head petulantly, "that's why I don't drink tequila. I probably should have mentioned that when we started doing shots earlier. Whiskey or vodka would have better."

Hotch shook his head as he pushed her down onto the bed, "don't worry about it sweetheart," he pulled up her covers, "we won't be doing this again."

Emily's eyes started to fill with tears again.

'_Great . . . now he won't ever want to go out drinking with me again!'_

His eyes widened . . . shit! God, they needed to get some sleep. He couldn't have her bursting into tears every two minutes on the jet.

Hotch sat down on the bed, rubbing her arm as he hurried to elaborate, "no sweetheart, please don't cry! It was good we did this," he nodded seriously at her, "really I had a good time. What I meant was next time we go out we'll do it without ingesting quite so much alcohol. Next time we'll do it without the early morning vomiting and splitting headaches," he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek as he said softly, "okay?"

Wiping the corner of eye with her index finger, Emily gave Hotch a watery smile as she nodded back, "okay."

His eyes crinkled as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

How could he have ever been such a jerk to her?

With a shake of his head he went back into the bathroom to pull the Tylenol out of her travel bag. After dry swallowing two pills himself, he shook two more into his hand and brought them back out to Emily with a glass of water.

"Here," he smiled at her, "take these now, drink all of the water, and then hopefully you won't put Morgan's head through the wall when you see him in a few hours."

Emily swallowed the pills and water, placing the glass on the nightstand before she asked him with a sleepy smile, "why is Morgan the one in danger of mortal injury?"

She loved to listen to Hotch profile her behavior. He was so cute when he thought he had a clue.

But he didn't answer her right away. And she watched as he began gathering up his gun and suit jacket and shoes from around the room,

Once he was pretty sure that he'd grabbed all of his crap, Hotch sat down on the end of her bed while he pulled on his shoes. Opting not to tie them, he shot a glance over his shoulder as he finally answered her, "because he's going to be the one that does something to piss you off."

Stole cold sober Emily and Morgan could go at it like cats and dogs. So God help Derek if she was hung over tomorrow.

She might take his milk money and shove him into his locker just because.

As her lashes started to flutter she murmured back "you think so huh?"

He stood up and walked around the side of the bed. After tucking a strand of hair behind her ear he looked down at her as he whispered, "I know so."

Then he kissed her forehead and pulled the blankets up around her. He stood there for a moment watching as her breathing evened out.

He still felt guilty for being such a jerk but he was pretty sure that he'd made it up to her. And though he really wished that he could sleep with her, he knew that was a BAD idea.

Even though they were in better shape than when he got into bed with her earlier . . . they were both definitely still drunk.

And he'd already demonstrated some poor decision making skills since they'd woken up. Getting into bed with her again would pretty much top the list of things NOT to do if they didn't want to wake up in a few hours with a very big oops.

His face softened as he stroked his finger down her cheek . . . he was in love with her. So he very much did not want their first time to be an accidental drunken fumbling like they'd just met in a bar.

The end game here was much too important to risk something like that happening. That's why he'd gotten up before.

And that's why he was leaving now.

He kissed her forehead one more time, and then he set her alarm for 7:35 and quietly slipped out of her door and went back down the hall to his room.

A room which . . . due to their case . . . he hadn't seen much of the past two days.

He set his own alarm for 7:15, stripped off everything he was wearing but his boxers, and dropped face down on the bed.

His last thought before he passed out was about Emily.

'_If I drank what she did without having the extra weight, I probably would have been drunk enough to be crying too.'_

//////////

Hotch woke up almost two and a half hours later. Though he wasn't exactly feeling good, he was feeling notably better than he had been when he'd arrived back at his room. He popped two Tylenol out of his bag, took a quick shower, dressed and packed his few possessions.

He was already down in the lobby asking the concierge where he could find breakfast at just about the same time Emily's alarm was going off.

/////////

After giving a furtive look around to see if anyone from the team was out and about yet, Hotch rapped twice on Emily's door.

He heard a cranky, "hold on, I'm coming!" and he had to bite down hard on his lip to keep it from twitching.

Apparently Emily was not feeling quite herself this morning.

Emily yanked the door open with her blouse buttoned halfway up.

"WHAT?!"

She stopped grumping when she realized who it was, "oh. Hi."

No matter how pissy a mood she was in it was almost impossible to take it out on him.

Almost.

With a nod hello, Hotch pushed his way in as he gave an admiring glance down to her exposed chest, "so are you going to get the rest of those or are you trying to give Reid a heart attack today?"

With a grunt Emily shook her head as she started fastening her shirt again, "_you're_ the one that interrupted the dressing process."

Men.

Hotch stared at her fingers as she finished the last button and then watched as she looked up with her eyes wide and asked sarcastically, "better?"

With a shrug, and an "eh," he reached into the big bag he was carrying.

He actually preferred it the other way but, what are you gonna do?

Emily rolled her eyes in disgust, "nice Aaron. Very nice. I hope you know that was a Morgan'esque response."

Actually even Morgan knew better than to pull that with her.

Oh yeah . . . her jaw twitched . . . if he kept it up he was definitely getting a smack today.

Hotch looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye, "really, has Derek been over to see your breasts this morning too?"

A swift punch to his bicep followed that remark.

His lips twitched . . . God she was fast . . . he'd barely had time to prepare himself for that one.

After the bruise Hotch was sure was now forming, most men would have regretted opening their mouth, but . . . Hotch wasn't most men. He still felt that it had been worth it.

In the meantime . . . he pushed aside some napkins to reach the bottom of the bag . . . he had something to win back her affection.

Grinding her jaw, Emily was just about to unleash her verbal response to Hotch's breast comment, when he thrust a white cup out in front of him, "hold that thought Holyfield."

Her face lit up, "oh, my God, I LOVE you!"

Okay . . . that sort of slipped out. But given the context she was pretty sure that he knew it wasn't a genuine declaration.

So she glided past it as all of her additional retaliatory thoughts were forgotten. With a huge grin, she took the coffee from his outstretched hand, "Ferris Bueller you're my hero!"

Coffee . . . she took a sip . . . the nectar of the gods. Well, if the gods needed caffeine to perk them up after tying one on.

His brow wrinkled, "what?"

"What, what?" Emily raised an eyebrow, "have you not seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?"

He looked over incredulously, "well, yes of course I've seen it. But that's just about the most obscure quote I've ever heard anybody use from it. You might as well have said 'sooner or later everyone goes to the zoo.'"

Emily's lip quirked up around her coffee cup, "and exactly how many times _have_ you seen Ferris Bueller, Aaron?"

Now flustered, Hotch shook his head, "I don't really think that's relevant Emily," he cleared his throat, trying to change the subject away from his brief infatuation with John Hughes movies, "and why are we talking about Ferris Bueller anyway?"

She shook her head, "I'm not really sure but I think if there was a point here, it caught the last train out of the station."

Though she made a mental note to follow up on the Ferris Bueller thing at a later date.

Hotch nodded as he walked over to the coffee table and sat down in the end chair.

The end chair that he had fallen asleep _in_ . . . and then fallen out _of . . ._ the night before.

His eyes twinkled as he looked over at her, "come here pretty girl, I brought food too."

Emily grinned as she hurried over, "ooh! What did you get!?" Before he had a chance to answer she added, "most people can't look at food when they're hung over but I'm always starving after I drink."

As she sat down crossed legged on the floor next to him, Hotch's eyes crinkled . . . yet another thing they had in common. He smiled at her, "yeah, I don't drink that often anymore but I'm always starving too," he started pulling items out of the bag, "so I went to McDonald's and bought us junk. Greasy disgusting junk food that people our age have no business eating for breakfast. Hash browns, and those muffin sausage sandwich things."

Emily gave him a slow grin, "oh baby, if I didn't think it would slow down the consumption of my food, I would TOTALLY make out with you right now."

Hotch snorted, "well far be it from me to stand in the way of you and your breakfast. God knows I could lose a limb. So we can delay payment for a later time."

That was definitely one he was planning on cashing in at some point.

Grinning, Emily started munching on her hash browns, "so what time are we leaving again?"

"Nine thirty," he added around his bite of sandwich, "but I'm going to head over a little earlier than you guys."

As he saw the look she was giving him he gave her one back, "Emily, it really wouldn't do for both of us to show up together looking like we got hit by a truck this morning."

Emily scowled at him around her coffee, "_please_, we look fine now."

And therefore she saw no reason why he had to leave her behind this morning. That was bullshit.

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her, "visually perhaps, but we both sound like we've smoked two packs of cigarettes, not to mention," he nodded at her around his own coffee, "you're scowling at me because I'm leaving for the airport without you. You're a little cranky."

She was actually incredibly cranky. Given that of the two of them he was usually the grumpy one, it was quite amusing for him to see her like this now.

But it was also a dead giveaway that she was hung over, because ordinarily Emily was very even tempered.

Actually she was usually genuinely cheerful.

Today though he had no doubt that she'd be biting people's heads off as soon as they were out in the world.

Not that he cared if the team knew that she'd been drinking. Or even that the two of them had gone out together. He just didn't want it to look like the two of them had been up boozing all night.

Which was . . . he rolled his eyes . . . exactly what they HAD been doing.

But his thought was that if he maintained a little _physical_ distance between himself and Emily, then hopefully nobody would put two and two together.

After shooting Hotch a dirty look, Emily raised her voice slightly, "I am not CRANKY!"

With an amused shake of his head Hotch responded flatly, "the tone and the facial expression pretty much killed any effectiveness the words might have had in making that argument," he added knowingly, "you're only being nice to me now because I'm feeding you."

Yeah, there was _no_ way they were hiding her hangover from the team. She was only being nice right now because he'd brought her coffee and food. In that respect Emily was very much like a man.

The way to her heart was through her stomach.

Slightly chastened, Emily mumbled something unintelligible around her bite of English muffin.

He raised his eyebrow, "what was that?"

After swallowing her food, Emily repeated herself, "I said that's not the ONLY reason I'm being nice to you."

In response to her half assed apology, Hotch graced her with a dimple. So she couldn't help giving him a shy smile back.

Yeah, this is why it was basically impossible to be bitchy with him.

As Hotch grabbed another hash brown, Emily started digging around in the bag for napkins. When she got to the bottom, she pulled out an apple pie and her eyes lit up.

"Ooh! Who's this for?"

Hotch swallowed his bite, "for you. For the plane. You'll pass out right after we take off, wake up in two hours, and at that point all of the alcohol will have left your body but you'll be hungry again. Therefore," he gestured to the pie in her hand, "I bought you a snack. You can heat it up in the microwave. Just don't forget to throw it in your bag."

Emily smiled softly . . . was it any wonder why she fell in love with him? He was perfect just as he was. Even if 'as he was' included him being a cranky bastard at four o'clock in the morning.

But, given her little snips at him since he'd arrived at her room, they were probably even on that front. Hell, she was a cranky bastard right now and he was still sitting with her, sharing his breakfast. And as she suddenly pictured the remorse on his face last night . . . and the way he'd tucked her in . . . she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

She gently wiped her lipstick off of his skin with the tips of her fingers as she said softly, "thank you for my snack."

Hotch just gave her a little smile in return . . . and continued to eat his breakfast.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: So yeah, SUPER long! It was initially (believe it or not) just the chapter with Hotch falling off the chair and cracking his skull. That through the end with just a recap of how they got to that point. But as I started to read through it I realized it would be better with more "live" scenes._

_Plus, if ever the sexual tension needed to rear its ugly head it would be after ingesting that much hard alcohol. Drunk libidos are not the same as sober ones! _

_And the kissing, they could get away with real kissing after that much alcohol. Plus, whatever happens in Vegas . . . stays in Vegas._

_I think half of you were watching the eps again so was like a lot of hype around the chapter! It was a little intimidating so please let me know if you enjoyed it. I tried to pull together the threads of their relationship now, plus the stuff we did see onscreen the next morning. _

_Why WAS Hotch missing from the lobby? Really, why would he need to go to the plane before the rest of them? It's not like he needed to gas up the jet for the flight back! I always thought his absence was quite conspicuous. Especially given that the rest of the team was all completely fine and couldn't figure out why Emily was all cranky. Which meant that she wasn't drinking with any of them. And I really didn't see her out getting smashed alone. And that last shot of The Instincts had them sitting together, each with a drink, both laughing. I carried that thread all around the Mulberry Bush and back again._

_My favorite part of the morning scene was Rossi's hilarious mimed drunk movements when JJ looked at him like 'what's Em's problem?' And that's why I had him see them on the elevator drunk. So it would be clear the next morning to him (and only him), why she was acting the way that she was._

_I've got a draft done of the next part of the Memoriam episode. It might actually be two more chapters. I've got one more for the plane ride back with just Hotch, JJ and Em, and then I started some missing scenes and internal dialogue on stuff we did see, for the JJ goes into labor section._

_Might get the plane chapter up this weekend. It's relatively short so I don't think it'll take long to clean up. _

_And Kavi and I will be putting up another bonus challenge this week! After all my first person fics recently, Arcadya (my beta for any new readers) wanted to try out a first person story too. So I decided it might be fun to throw up a whole challenge related to write a first person POV story. And fortunately Kavi agreed :) Those will probably be going up tomorrow. If you write, and you've never done one, they really are fun. It's kind of a stream of consciousness thing. You should give it a whirl :)_


	116. His Yin and His Yang

**Author's Note**: As promised, this picks up the same morning they left Vegas. The flight home. And I just realized I forgot to put a time stamp on the last chapter and I believe I've now deleted it. Damn. Not that it's a huge thing to put it back up again but once I start getting in the habit of doing that I'll probably be paralyzed just cleaning up the old stuff and I'll never move forward on anything :)

So anyway, I don't think they said on the show what day it was so I'm just saying, because Emily had dinner with her dad on Tuesday, that it's now Thursday.

**Unrelated Story Pimp**: If you haven't seen it, I put up a separate Girl'verse story called _Invasion of the Pod People_. It's an H/P flashback to a missing day from early season 4.

*******************************************

Episode – Memoriam

_Early November: Thursday_

**His Yin and His Yang**

JJ looked across the aisle of the jet and smiled.

Even though it was just the three of them on the flight home, Hotch and Emily had still opted to sit together. And JJ had just looked up from her book to see that they'd actually fallen asleep together.

Emily's head was on Hotch's shoulder and his was tipped down to lean against hers. Both of them had passed out with a case file in front of them.

JJ's eyes crinkled . . . they were so cute.

Though they'd come to the jet separately, Dave had whispered to her . . . after Emily bit Morgan's head off for the third time . . . that Hotch and Emily had _both_ been out drinking late the night before.

At first JJ had thought it was just Emily that had a few too many glasses of wine, so Dave's news had surprised her a little. The surprise of course wasn't that Hotch and Emily were out together . . . that was par for the course lately . . . it was just surprising in that neither of them were heavy drinkers.

If the group went out, it was usually only two of three beers before Hotch switched to water and Emily switched to diet Coke. Neither of them liked to lose control in front of other people, and excessive alcohol consumption was a sure fire way to lose complete control of a situation.

That said, JJ still thought them going out was really good though. Though she felt bad that they both clearly were a little under the weather today, they still deserved the chance to unwind and have fun in Vegas like regular people.

She ran her hand over her protruding belly . . . and if she wasn't three days to her due date maybe she too would have done something more exciting than have dinner and go right to bed.

As she saw Hotch's lashes flutter, JJ dropped her eyes back to her book. She knew it would probably freak him out if he knew she'd been watching him.

So rather than immediately acknowledging that he was now awake, she waited to look up until he asked her in a slightly husky voice.

"How are you feeling?"

Once he'd given Derek and Dave the thumbs up to stay behind with Reid, Hotch had realized that meant just him and the girls on the plane. He wasn't sure if the three of them had ever flown anywhere alone together. And given how close JJ was to delivery . . . and that Emily was most likely going to be passed out for half the trip . . . Hotch had intended to stay awake the whole flight in case his other girl needed anything. But as he checked his watch he realized he'd been sleeping for almost two hours.

So much for being chivalrous.

JJ answered with a little smile, "I'm feeling okay. Though . . ." her brow wrinkled slightly as she twisted in her seat, "we've been sitting so long that my back's starting to hurt a bit."

Hotch frowned . . . well, that's not good. Even if he was a bit late to the dutiful man servant game, he could at least help JJ out with this problem now.

Slightly perplexed, JJ watched as Hotch . . . without a word to her . . . gently disentangled himself from Emily so that he could slide out of the seat. And then he got up and walked down to the other end of the plane, disappearing behind the divider.

Her brow wrinkled . . . what was he doing? The bathroom was at the other end, that was just storage in there.

A few seconds later she saw him come back out of their baggage hold carrying . . . she bit her lip . . . a heating pad.

Her eyes began to sting . . . okay, next to Will, Hotch was definitely the sweetest man that she knew.

Hotch came back down and plugged the cord into one of the sockets by JJ's chair. And then he had her scoot forward slightly so he could tuck the pad behind her back.

"Here you go," he patted her arm as he stood up, "this should help a little."

Well, hopefully it would help a little. But he supposed it was better late than never on the chivalry front.

"Thanks," JJ smiled at him as she settled back, feeling the warmth immediately begin to sooth her aching muscles, "where did you get this?"

Since when did they carry heating pads on the FBI jet?

A slight flush came to Hotch's cheeks as he stepped back, "I uh bought it for Emily about a month ago. And I know that she carries it in her bag now, and I was sure she wouldn't mind if you borrowed it."

Hearing her name being used, Emily mumbled sleepily with her eyes closed, "what wouldn't I mind?"

After a quick glance at his waking companion, Hotch headed towards the galley, calling over his shoulder, "JJ's back is bothering her so . . ."

Before Hotch could finish his sentence Emily interrupted with a yawn as her eyes popped open, "well then she should borrow my heating pad."

Seeing Hotch roll his eyes from the doorway, JJ began to giggle. Then he said drolly, "yes Prentiss, thank you for the suggestion but we've already taken the matter to the point of resolution."

And then he turned back to the matter he was attending to in their little kitchen.

Emily looked over at the cord snaking out from behind JJ's seat, "oh . . . good."

Apparently she was a bit slow today. She yawned and rolled her neck, trying to wake up.

Hmm, she rubbed her hand across her face . . . could be sleep deprivation.

Coffee.

The word suddenly appeared in her mind. She needed more coffee. Hotch had brought her one cup this morning, and she'd had another one on the way to the airport, but clearly that was not enough. And she was just about to slide out from behind the table to go get a third jolt of caffeine when suddenly a cup of coffee appeared in front of her.

A coffee . . . and a warm apple pie from McDonald's.

Aww!

Biting her lip she looked up to see Hotch giving her a little smile, "I heated them up."

Her eyes crinkled as she said softly, "thanks."

If JJ wasn't here Emily might have forgotten about the limited regular kissing rule and planted one on him just for being the sweetest man on the planet. After all, last night he got compensation for simply being adorable, he really should get something for being sweet too.

Hmm . . . she mused to herself as she stared at his gorgeous face . . . perhaps at a later date she could work out some ongoing payment plan on both fronts.

As Emily realized a moment later that she and Hotch had been making at what amounted to 'goo goo eyes' at each other for a good ten seconds, she broke off their inadvertent reverie and turned to JJ with a bright smile.

"Hotch bought me an apple pie. Do you want to split it?"

JJ looked up from her book again. Her mouth had been watering as soon as she smelled the aroma of warm cinnamon and apples come wafting over.

But Hotch had bought the pie for Emily, it was for her, and JJ wasn't going to be a mooch so she quickly shook her head, "oh no, that's okay, thanks," her eyes dropped down to the snack on the table, "I'm good."

Seeing JJ eyeing the pie longingly, Emily gave Hotch a look. He gave a barely perceptible nod in return and went back into the galley, coming out a moment later with a knife and a napkin.

He sliced the pie in what he judged to be two even portions before Emily took what she then judged to be the slightly smaller of the two pieces. And then Hotch handed JJ the other half with an apology, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I should have bought two."

When he was at McDonald's this morning he was just thinking about Emily. But he knew that JJ would also be on the flight with them. So really, he should have remembered to get something for her as well.

Of course in his defense, he was pretty hung over when he was ordering their breakfast. So that was most likely the cause for his lapse in what he considered to be basic courtesy when it came to not just Emily and JJ, but Garcia as well.

You don't do for one and not the others. Fortunately for him Garcia was back home or he would have been slicing that pie up into slivers.

After looking down at the unexpected snack in her hands, JJ looked back up at the two of them with watery eyes, "I'm really going to miss you guys."

She really wanted to blame the crying on her hormones, but that was a cop out. She'd been a mess every time she thought about leaving everybody. How was she going to function being home all by herself? Not seeing them anymore.

Not . . . she sniffled . . . having her boss split a warm apple pie for her to share with her best friend.

Emily's eyes started to tear up as well, "we're going to miss you too. It's not going to be right going off without you."

She'd never gone on a case without JJ. They were the two amigas. Rolling their eyes at one another as they put up with the subtle, occasionally blatant, sexism they'd sometimes meet out on the road as women working in a man's world.

It was a bond that the men could never really understand.

Though perhaps Morgan on some level could appreciate it . . . being judged for _what_ you were, rather than who you were.

But he was still a man.

And men, in this country and in this age, regardless of their race or ethnicity, were still more universally accepted in law enforcement than women.

The others, as sensitive as they were, they were still white men. And white men . . . especially alphas like Dave and Hotch . . . they could never truly understand that bond between the women. Even though Emily spent most of her time with Hotch now, she knew it was still going to be hard the first time she went to give a knowing look to JJ . . . and she wasn't there.

Emily wiped the corner of her eye . . . yeah, that was going to suck.

A sad smile touched Hotch's lips, as he rubbed JJ's shoulder, "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

He'd met the woman she'd picked as her replacement. On paper she certainly seemed qualified, but beyond that he had no opinion of her. All he knew for sure . . . all that mattered . . . was that she wasn't JJ. So basically that meant that no matter how good she looked on paper, or how competent she'd _hopefully_ be in practice, she was still getting shipped back to Personnel for her next assignment the moment Hotch got the got the call from JJ that she was ready to come back.

Hotch felt a sense of melancholy spreading through him as both women sniffled, wiping their eyes, before they quickly pulled themselves back together.

With a heavy heart he looked back and forth between the two of them . . . both were avoiding his gaze . . . so he settled into his seat again.

And then he sighed.

He couldn't be dreading the next three months more if Emily was going to be out of the office.

Actually . . . he felt her thigh brush against his . . . the thought of Emily being out for three weeks was completely intolerable.

Three months would probably kill him.

As though she knew what he was thinking, Emily suddenly turned to him with a watery smile and mimed for him to open his mouth. When he did she popped a bite of pastry into it. His lip quirked up as he began to chew it slowly, watching as she smiled back at him before she took a sip of coffee.

Their little bout of collective sadness notwithstanding, it appeared that the nap had improved Emily's mood . . . and her color. She'd been a little pale when he'd knocked on her door this morning.

But . . . he felt a faint tickle of guilt . . . that might have been because she'd been throwing up last night. Not that the vomiting was his fault, but his treatment of her at the time was still something that bothered him. And he knew that he needed to let it go because it was over.

He'd apologized and she'd forgiven him. He just didn't like the idea that it was possible . . . even for an instant . . . to have such unkind thoughts for someone he loved so much.

That was . . . troubling.

Troubling enough actually for him to put a moratorium on any excessive drinking in the future. Not that he had a problem, with the exception of the night he signed his divorce papers, he probably hadn't actually been drunk, drunk in years. Perhaps even a decade.

When you're married and a workaholic, getting smashed on a Saturday night isn't really high on your to do list.

But he wasn't married anymore.

And his relationship with Emily was _very_ different than his relationship with Haley. He couldn't imagine Haley getting drunk and flirting with their hot female bartender as she politely declined the woman's offer of a threesome.

Yeah . . . he huffed to himself . . . he really couldn't imagine anyone making the comments to him and Haley that they did to him and Emily.

Basically Emily was fun, and Haley was . . . safe.

So it was entirely possible, actually entirely probable, that he and Emily would go out again sometime. And he just wanted to make sure that he didn't ever drink to excess around her again.

The idea that he actually could be a complete asshole to her when he was drunk that was . . . personally upsetting.

Though the circumstances of their relationship were completely different, that was still a little too much like his father's night and day behavior towards his mother for Hotch's comfort level.

As JJ and Emily began talking across the aisle, Hotch took a breath and shook off all of the heavy thoughts in his head. That's what staring at the ceiling at three o'clock in the morning was for . . . mental torture.

Now was for trying to stay busy.

And to that end he pretended to immerse himself in reading his case notes. Which he was actually reading, but it only required one hand to turn the page. The other came down under the table to rest on Emily's thigh.

He gently caressed it as he turned his pages.

Ever since his revelation of last week, he'd find himself doing that more and more. Touching her for no reason at all.

Perhaps, if he was inclined to analyze his own behavior, he'd acknowledge it was more like . . . staking claim. Not that he was proud of that term. It was a bit sexist. But he had decided that he wanted her to be his. And until he was in the right place emotionally to say the words, he'd let his actions speak for him. Not only to show any other men out in the world that she wasn't available, but so that she would know, on some level, how strongly he felt.

Ordinarily of course he was hands off when they were on duty. Not only was it inappropriate, but it would start to blur the lines between their off duty and on duty relationship. And on duty they were just as professional in front of the others as they'd ever been.

When they were working she was still "Prentiss" not "Emily." And she still threw in the occasional "sir" when they were out in the field.

Though he knew that those "sirs" were mostly just for his amusement now.

But flight time was only quasi work time. And for a flight of this duration it was much more quasi than work. For instance right now the girls were discussing the baby names that JJ had picked.

Henry for a boy . . . Catherine for a girl.

Though he wasn't involved in the conversation, Hotch gave a little nod of approval to himself as he unconsciously patted Emily's leg.

Good choices.

Though a moment later two other names popped into his head . . . Henry Lee Lucas and Donald Henry Gaskins.

Prolific serial killers both of them.

But of course he wasn't about to tell JJ that. Her mind didn't automatically go to the dark places like his did. And for that he was grateful.

That's why he liked to keep her nearby, her view of the world was less tarnished than his. Less ugly.

Brought down to his base affection for these women, he liked Emily with him because she saw things the way that he did . . . he liked JJ with him because she didn't.

Just as those two killers had popped into his head, he knew that they had also popped into Emily's. But she'd said nothing either. She'd just smiled brightly at JJ and said those names were really sweet.

And that . . . he felt Emily's hand come down to cover his hand resting on her leg . . . was reason number 957 why he was in love with her.

His girls . . . he looked back and forth between the two of them as his fingers tangled with Emily's . . . dark and light.

His yin and his yang.

They both suddenly burst out laughing as Emily cracked a joke about Reid's hair. Hotch's eyes crinkled in response.

He didn't know what he'd do without them.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Given we'll be shipping JJ off on maternity leave next chapter I figured she deserved a little face time. Though she will of course be getting some next go round, it won't be so introspectivey. _

_I don't know if JJ ever said any girl names she was thinking about but, Catherine worked for me._

_Yeah, I could have kept Emily cranky on the jet but I figure she gets a nap, has some more coffee, warm snack, sweet Hotch rubbing her leg, what's she got left to bitch about really? Exactly._

_So one more chapter for this episode. I think it'll be done by early next week, I finished the draft of the last scene today. I actually have a TON of stuff written in like 4 different stories, but it all needs to be typed up. That is the slight drawback with the 'commute writing.' Stuff is done, but it's not done. Therefore, I'm going to try to spend a little time over the weekend just transcribing. The problem is I never do that because I start 'writing' as I'm 'transcribing' and then I get all sidetracked in one particular story and all of these chapters continue to sit in my notebook. But if I am successful with the transcription portion of the weekend, for you that means I'll probably have a bunch of updates over the next week. I just can't for the life of me anticipate what stories they'll be in, because I don't know where my brain will go._

_The only thing I can promise is that there will be an update in A Pound of Flesh because I seriously am backlogged like 7 chapters in that story so I need to start putting them up before this becomes the 2010 Halloween story._

_And, in addition to the planned, already drafted, Girl chapter surrounding Henry's birth, I am planning on writing a separate JJ/Rossi "offshoot" story to go with it as well. Something that will pick up when the rest of the guys get home from Vegas. Come on, Reid showed up at the hospital but the other two didn't make an appearance? I think not. As far as I'm concerned they were in the gift shop. _


	117. Family Matters

**Author's Note**: I have, to my amazement and delight, 50 kagillion reviews and PMs to respond to (literally 50 kagillion) and you know I like to write you guys a little note when I respond. So that's going to take some time, and I figured you'd all prefer that I actually post this before I attempt to start my correspondence :)

The last chapter covering Memoriam aka The birth of Henry. I started to do some internal dialogue for the scene where JJ and Garcia come out to find H/P getting coffee but I realized it wasn't really adding to the episode so I deleted it and we start with them in the car instead. So basically these are all missing scenes.

And if you don't study the subtext as closely/obsessively as an H/P writer (yeah, hi, that would be me) then you might not know that that moment when they come out and you see them getting coffee is what made their 'coffee relationship' canon in my mind. Because it was the first time we'd seen the two of them off alone together just on a break. The problem is that when you write H/P as "prolifically" as I do, it's really frigging annoying trying to work the coffee angle into every frigging story! So, please note, it's not just me being lazy thinking up ways to bring them together, that element _is _from the show. It's not just me being a slack ass :)

Thanks to my lovely beta Miss Arcadya for her assistance. And you should all thank her really because she caught a really unfortunate/disgusting typo about halfway down the page. There's a scene where they're getting a sandwich and somehow my brain wrote in a body part rather the food item that I was thinking of. Yeah, it was icky. Like if Hannibal Lecter did a set of Mad Libs.

* * *

_Episode – Memoriam_

_Early November: Thursday_

**Family Matters**

"Hee hee, ho ho, hee. Hee hee, hoo hoo."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he listened to Garcia in the backseat attempting to help JJ with her Lamaze breathing. Unfortunately Garcia had no formal training and she was pretty much just winging it.

If the two blondes didn't hyperventilate on the way to the hospital he'd be astounded.

His gaze caught with Emily's in the mirror and they both bit down hard to keep from laughing out loud.

Even though he knew the proper breathing technique, Hotch knew it would hurt Garcia's feelings if he interceded so he just let her keep going.

They'd be at the hospital soon enough.

And all things considered, they were doing pretty well. Emily was handling the timing of the contractions and he was handling the screaming through the intersections with the lights and the sirens.

They pretty much had things covered.

That was until JJ suddenly shrieked out of nowhere.

"GOD **DAMN** IT PENELOPE! IT'S HEE HEE HEE, **NOT**, HI HO HI HO! IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED I AM NOT A FRIGGING DWARF GOING OFF TO WORK IN THE DIAMOND _**MINE**_!"

The other three occupants of the car winced at the pitch she reached at the end.

Okay . . . Hotch pressed his foot a little further down on the gas . . . somebody needs an epidural.

He looked in the mirror again to see both Garcia and Emily's eyes watering.

Garcia was clearly trying not to take JJ's obscenity laden dismissal personally. Emily on the other hand . . . he snuck another glance in the mirror . . . it appeared that JJ was in the midst of her contraction and using her friend's hand as a stress ball.

Emily snapped her eyes up to his as she mouthed desperately, '_help me!'_

His eyes dropped back to the accelerator.

'_All right, let's see if we can do seventy.' _

///////

Emily paused before she reentered the hospital room, watching as Hotch held JJ's hand through another contraction.

Will hadn't arrived yet. He'd been on a stakeout so there was a slight delay from the point that JJ had called, to him actually getting to the hospital.

Slight delay translated in real time as ninety three minutes and counting.

Fortunately though, JJ's last call from her "soon to be dead if your ass doesn't darken my doorstep in five minutes" fiancé, said that his replacement had finally arrived and his partner was driving him over now.

It was just lucky for Will that JJ still had a ways to go.

Even though she'd waited a little too long to tell anyone she was in labor, JJ was still only at seven centimeters. But the contractions were clearly sharper and coming closer together now, and Emily winced in sympathy at the pain on her friend's face.

But then her expression softened as she looked over at Hotch.

Once it was apparent that Will would be late . . . and Garcia had realized that she really didn't know what she was doing . . . Hotch had stepped up as coach. He was helping JJ with her breathing, and rubbing her back . . . and really . . . just being an all around good guy.

In that moment, watching them together . . . Emily ached for him.

Not only for the man that he was, but for the man that he used to be. The husband who had once stood in a room just like this one, and held his wife's hand as they prepared for the birth of their son.

And then it was all lost a few short years later.

Tears sprang to her eyes . . . for the first time she truly understood how frightened he must be of trying again. Because if this was Hotch in full husband mode . . . and Emily knew that it was . . . then how had his marriage fallen apart? Couldn't Haley see how wonderful he was?

How perfect he was.

Of course Emily no longer wanted Haley to see how perfect he was, she wanted him for herself. But still, all she could think of was how much damage that must have caused him. To move from this . . . he whispered something in JJ's ear . . . to what his life had become before his son had even reached his third birthday.

Emily's eyes burned as she considered how long it was going to take him to move past those scars.

"Make way for ducklings and daddies, expectant and otherwise," Garcia suddenly announced from behind her.

Startled, Emily jumped slightly as she moved out of the doorway to let Garcia, Will, and Will's partner into the room. Then she blinked away her tears as she watched Hotch try to smoothly step aside. But JJ put her hand up to Will to hold on for a second. And then she tugged Hotch down, whispering something in his ear before she kissed his cheek.

A faint smile touched Hotch's mouth before he turned back and pressed his lips to JJ's sweaty forehead. Emily watched as the two of them exchanged a look as he placed her hand back on the bed. And then Hotch gave Will a fatherly pat on the back as he walked past him before heading over to where Emily was standing by the door.

Yep . . . she gave him a little smile . . . absolutely perfect.

As he crossed the room, Hotch nodded hello to Will's partner who was talking quietly with Garcia. Then he looked at Emily, gesturing for her to step into the hall so they could leave the expectant parents alone.

They were only placeholders, temporary support until Will arrived. But now that he had arrived, it was time for them to fade into the shadows. The birth of your child is an intensely personal moment, and nobody needs . . . or wants . . . an audience.

It wasn't until they stepped into the corridor that Hotch noticed the tint of crimson rimming Emily's eyes. His hand ghosted over her back as he leaned down to whisper, "are you okay?"

Emily blinked and shot him a bright smile, "yeah, I'm good. Just getting kind of excited," and knowing from his question that he'd picked up on the moisture in her eyes she quickly added, "but I think the disinfectant around here is making my eyes water a little."

That was a teeny, tiny little white lie but it wasn't one she felt guilty about. She certainly didn't want to put a damper on the happiness of the day by reminding him of his own lost family. Not that she didn't think his mind could go there on its own.

She just didn't want to be the one doing the driving.

Hotch nodded as they began walking, "yeah it is a little strong, but you know the biggest concern in the hospital these days is infection."

For a split second he started to slide his arm around her waist, and then he remembered that Garcia and Detective Washington would be following them out. So he quickly redirected his movements, placing his hand on Emily's shoulder instead.

It was so bizarre how much their relationship changed from on duty to off.

Less than a day ago they were in Vegas, drunk and making out on the hotel room carpet. Now he couldn't even put his arm around her waist for fear of somebody making the wrong inference about their relationship.

Detective Washington for instance. Though Hotch thought she was nice enough . . . he had met her a few times when the team went out for drinks . . . it wouldn't do for her, somebody in Metro Police . . . to know how 'familiar' he was with one of his subordinates.

But of course he didn't think of Emily as a subordinate. Though as he considered it, he realized that he no longer thought of anyone on his team as a 'subordinate.'

They had all grown too close over the years for that to still be an appropriate word.

Though of course he was responsible for them, and had no problem whatsoever giving them orders.

But really . . . his hand slid up to Emily's neck . . . he just considered himself to be the head of the family.

As he felt Emily's smooth skin under his fingers, he thought back on their hotel room kiss. God did he wish that wasn't just a one off. Having her with him all the time like that would be phenomenal. But just being in with JJ had reminded him again why it couldn't be. He kept remembering the last time he was helping someone with her Lamaze.

Haley.

He had flashes on how excited they were, how happy they were, all of the plans they had for the future.

And then how quickly all of that had fallen apart.

Though Haley and Emily were very different women . . . he was the same man. And his behavior, _his_ actions, they were the precipitating demise for the end of that relationship.

And as much as he loved Emily, he wasn't ready to screw up another one yet.

As Hotch looked around, he realized that they'd somehow passed the waiting room and were heading towards the stairs.

Emily must have been steering them towards fresh air.

Fresh air did sound like a good idea. They'd been in the hospital with JJ for almost two hours, it was a little stifling.

And Garcia would be fine for a few minutes with just Will's partner. If she was looking for them then she'd call them.

They started down the stairs, and now that they were completely alone, Hotch felt free to slip his arm down from Emily's shoulder and take her hand instead.

She shot him a quick grin and he shot her a dimple in return.

When they finally reached the ground floor, they stepped outside into the gathering dusk. Hotch looked down at Emily questioningly, "do you just want to get some coffee or some food too?"

Her mouth twitched, "have you ever known me to turn down food?"

Silly Hotch and his silly questions.

His lip quirked up, "you're right. Dumb question."

Hotch looked around, spotting a pizza/sub place a little further down the street.

'_Ah . . . excellent.'_

He pointed, "there. We can get some sandwiches." As they started walking again, Hotch glanced over at Emily, "why don't you call Garcia and see if she and Detective Washington are hungry?"

After his little faux pas on the plane with JJ and the apple pie, Hotch was acutely aware today of remembering everyone that needed to be remembered in all of his food and beverage runs.

Emily let go of his hand so that she could pull out her cell. But then she remembered that Garcia was still in the hospital and might be in an area where she couldn't use her phone.

So as she and Hotch stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change, Emily typed out a short text messages.

'_Getting sandwiches. What do you two want?'_

Ten seconds later she had her response.

'_Ginnie had to leave. I'd like a meatball hoagie and chips please.'_

Emily repeated aloud, "Washington had to leave. Garcia wants a meatball sub and a bag of chips."

Hotch nodded, and Emily was just about to put her phone away when another message came through.

'_JJ asked me to be Godmother!'_

For just a moment Emily stared blankly at the message.

_What . . .?_

Then suddenly the words made sense, and with that comprehension she felt a wave of sadness and pain crash into her.

JJ picked Garcia . . . not her.

With her eyes now burning, Emily typed back what she hoped was a normal response.

'_That's great! Baby troll dolls for everyone!'_

Then she slipped her phone back into her pocket and blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes. They'd just arrived at the sub shop and it wouldn't do for Hotch to see her this upset.

But she really wasn't sure how much longer she was going to keep it together, so she stopped short right as he opened the door for her.

Being careful to brighten her voice, she kept her eyes turned towards the traffic as she said, "you know I think I'll check in with Dave real quick. It's been a few hours and I just want to make sure that Reid's doing okay."

It wasn't a lie as long as she did that in addition to bursting into tears.

Hotch nodded, "that's probably a good idea," he raised his eyebrow, "you want turkey?"

That was her favorite cold sub. Steak and cheese was her favorite hot sub, but he figured with all the excitement today she'd want something lighter.

She flashed him a quick, genuine, smile as she nodded, "yes please, thanks."

He always knew exactly what she wanted.

His lip quirked up before he leaned over to kiss her cheek. And as he turned away he added offhand, "your eyes are still a little red sweetheart. Maybe you should put some drops in them."

Not trusting her voice, Emily just nodded and smiled as he turned and went inside. And then through the glass, Emily watched him walk up to the counter. Once she was sure that he was occupied, she turned and walked down to sit on the bench two storefronts down.

Not wanting to lie to Hotch, she typed a quick, _'how's Reid?'_ to Dave before she put her phone away.

Though she was actually worried about Spencer, that's not why she stayed outside. She'd just needed to be alone for a minute. If she'd been standing at the counter with Hotch waiting for their food, he would have picked up in about thirty seconds that something was wrong beyond her nonexistent issues with the disinfectant they used at the hospital.

This way maybe she'd have pulled herself back together by the time he came looking for her. Though . . . feeling her sadness well up and the tears fill her eyes . . . she wasn't sure how well that plan was going to pull together.

JJ picked Garcia as Godmother. And JJ didn't even tell Emily herself, she had to find out from a stupid text message from a deliriously happy Penelope.

Emily wiped her hand under her eye . . . yeah, she and JJ might not spend as much time together as they used to, but she still considered JJ to be her closest female friend.

If Emily was picking godmothers she definitely would have picked JJ . . . another tear ran down her face . . . but apparently JJ didn't feel the same way about her.

That really sucked to find out that your best girlfriend didn't love you as much as you loved her. It was either that or she didn't think that Emily would make a good mother.

Either scenario broke her heart.

The tears started running down Emily's face and she couldn't make them stop.

/////////

Hotch came out of the sub shop, his eyes tracking the area looking for Emily.

Now where was . . . and then he spotted her further down the sidewalk.

As he started over he saw her frantically wiping her eyes and his brow furrowed in concern.

Why was she crying?

And then his heart twisted . . . he hated it when she cried.

With a heavy sigh, he went over and sat down next to her on the bench, placing the bag of sandwiches to his other side.

He said nothing.

Instead, he just picked up her hand and began tracing his fingers lightly over her palm. As he'd hoped, a moment later she leaned over and put her head on his shoulder.

"JJ asked Garcia to be godmother," Emily whispered. Then she was quiet for a moment before adding sadly, "apparently JJ doesn't think I'd make a suitable guardian for her child," as the tears began to pool again her voice cracked, "I guess she doesn't think I'd be a good mother."

Hearing the pain in her voice caused a corresponding pain in Hotch's heart. He reached over and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, "sweetheart, I'm sure that's not true at all. I know for a fact that you'd be a wonderful mother. Look how good you are with Jack."

Emily sniffled into his jacket, "but that's you, not JJ. If she thought I'd be a good mom why would she ask Garcia," she wiped her hand across her face, "I mean no offense to Penelope but, JJ didn't even say anything to me before she asked her," she bit her lip, "like . . . like, it never would have even occurred to her that I was an option."

For a moment, Hotch couldn't think of a damn thing to say. If he had to pick a guardian for Jack he'd pick Emily first, last and always.

So why wouldn't JJ? Why would she think that Garcia would make a better godmother?

Trying to put aside his own partiality to Emily, he ran down an objective of Emily and Penelope's relative strengths and weaknesses as a parent.

Both were single, so it's not as though either had a spouse that would be a pro or con in JJ's eyes. Both were kind, loving, affectionate, intelligent, well educated and gainfully employed. They also both had a sense of humor, which Hotch had learned was a necessity to being a good parent. And of course neither of them smoked, were ill tempered, or drank excessively.

His brow wrinkled . . . basically they were evenly matched on all fronts.

But what was really odd though, was that Emily and JJ were more similar in basic personality than Garcia and JJ. Generally, if the worst happened, you'd pick someone who'd raise your child similarly to how you would if you were there.

And to Hotch's way of thinking, the pick under those circumstances would definitely be Emily . . . his stomach began to sink . . . and now he was starting to see what Emily saw.

As he felt a pang of sympathy for his girl, he kissed her temple. He really couldn't see any reason why JJ picked Garcia other than simply a personal preference. And Hotch knew how close Emily was with JJ, how highly she held her opinion. If JJ didn't want her as a guardian for her child, that would be a painful thing to accept.

Hell, it was a painful thing for him to accept and he wasn't even the one that had been passed over!

He pulled Emily in a little closer, and as she leaned into his side, her gun pressed into his hip. And suddenly he had it.

It was her job!

Feeling a rush of relief, he turned to her, "it's not you Emily, it's your work! If JJ needs somebody to raise her child it's because something's happened to her and Will both. So in that scenario, she'd want to make sure that whoever got her baby was safe," shaking his head sadly, he brushed her hair back behind her ear, "and you sweetheart, do not have a safe job."

Though it was a job they both shared, the dangers posed to her personally were something that his brain disengaged from when they were on the clock. It was why they had to have the clear delineation from off duty 'Emily' to on duty 'Prentiss.' Otherwise he'd never be able to function when they were in the field. She would never be Agent Prentiss, she would be his Emily. A sweet, loving woman who liked to cuddle and have tickle fights with his son.

It would be impossible to work together.

Emily looked over at him hopefully, "do you think that's it?"

Maybe JJ didn't really think she'd be a terrible mom. Maybe she was just being cautious.

He gave her a little smile, "I'm positive that's it."

Nothing else made sense. Looking back, it now seemed so obvious why she'd picked Garcia and not Emily. But Emily was too hurt to see it, and he was too blinded by his feelings for her.

They saw the world same way. And if she hurt, then he hurt.

He stroked his fingers along her arm . . . that's how it was when you loved someone.

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Emily looked over at Hotch with a rapidly brightening smile, "it wasn't me, it was my job."

She couldn't remember the last time she was so relieved to be reminded that she could die anytime she walked out the front door.

Hotch nodded firmly, "exactly."

Thank God she was smiling again. It wasn't like he would have had any recourse on this one if he hadn't figured out a logical explanation. Clearly, he never would have said anything to JJ. He loved her dearly, and if she wanted Garcia to pinch hit in a tragedy, then that was her right and he had no business commenting on it.

Though, if he admitted it to himself, he had been a little disappointed in her for not saying something to Emily directly. But now that he realized what the problem was, it made such perfect sense. So much sense in fact that JJ probably would never have assumed that the reasons for her choice weren't obvious.

Emily smiled softly at him, "thanks."

If not for Hotch she probably would have been miserable the whole rest of the day. Hell, the whole rest of the week. And she'd been so looking forward to this baby being born, she didn't want to taint the day with her stupid . . . okay, maybe not stupid . . . but whatever, insecurities.

But she really had been so hurt. It hadn't occurred to her that there was a logical . . . she slid her hand over gun . . . tangible, reason for JJ's decision.

Hotch turned to pull Emily into a proper hug before he whispered in her ear, "anytime sweetheart."

This was one of those moments . . . the moments that had begun to come with more frequency . . . where he truly wished that he had the balls to declare his feelings. Because he wanted so badly to kiss her and tell her that he loved her and that if it was up to him, she'd be made legal guardian of Jack if something happened to him and Haley.

But to his disgust he couldn't do any of those things.

The first two were presently off limits, and the third . . . he took her hand as they stood up . . . well, he didn't really see a scenario where Haley would be on board with Emily getting Jack.

God . . . his brow creased as a horrible thought came to him . . . if something happened to him Emily wouldn't get to see Jack anymore at all.

That would break her heart.

His eyebrow began twitching as they walked back down the street hand in hand.

He was going to have to do something about that. What, he had no idea. Given how recently the frost had come off of his relations with his ex, Hotch really didn't feel it was the right time to start up discussions about the custody agreement.

Emily was . . . for all intents . . . just his friend. She had no standing at all in this situation.

Of course . . . he rolled his eyes as they got to the light . . . if she was his _wife_, then things would be quite different.

But he told that little part of his brain to shut up right now. He was going slowly for a reason . . . so there would never be _another_, EX Mrs. Hotchner.

Okay . . . they hurried across the street . . . that was an item to keep running on the backburner.

'_How to get Emily access to Jack if he died?'_

But for now . . . they reentered the hospital parking lot . . . he was just going to worry about today. And today there was a new baby being born.

As they walked up to the sliding doors Emily looked over at Hotch as she asked worriedly, "you don't think we missed it right?"

He smiled, "no sweetheart, we've barely been gone fifteen minutes and JJ definitely has a few more hours to go."

She smiled, "right, that was kind of dumb. It's just that all of a sudden I got nervous that I'd held us up for so long that we would have missed the whole thing."

His eyes crinkled as they started down the corridor towards the elevators, "you do know that we won't actually be in there, right? We're not going to be invited in for the big event."

Emily rolled her eyes good naturedly, "yes Aaron, I know that we won't be in the room," she sighed, "I just don't want Will to come out all excited and have nobody to tell. That would be really sucky. We already know that both of their families are out of state, so like what if Garcia was in the bathroom when he went to the waiting room? We should have some representation there."

With the rest of the guys away, and Will's partner having to go back to work, there really wasn't anyone _but _the three of them. That would be awful if Will came out and nobody was there.

Tilting his head to the side, Hotch considered what she'd just said. Then he nodded, "you're right, that would be pretty," his lip quirked up, "sucky," then he bypassed the crowd by the elevators and headed for the stairs again, "we should get a move on."

Chuckling at his use of her vernacular, Emily hurried to keep up with his lengthening strides, "I do so enjoy it when you use the word 'suck.'"

He started to laugh as they climbed the three flights, "it's pretty easy to make you happy Agent Prentiss."

Her fingers curled around his as they circled the next turn, and when he looked down she smiled.

"You make me pretty happy."

She hoped that wouldn't be too much for him. But it was true, and she thought it should be said.

He stopped and stared at her, and then he nodded slowly as his expression softened, "you make me pretty happy too."

It was as close to a declaration as they were going to get for awhile. But he hoped it would be enough to tide them over. For her to understand that they were at least on the same path, even if they weren't yet walking down the same part of it.

But as he saw the brilliant smile she flashed him he was pretty sure that she had an inkling at least of what he meant.

He tugged her hand and they continued up the staircase, both of them filled with thoughts over the possibilities for the future. When they reached the fire door on the maternity level he turned to her, kissing her knuckles before he reluctantly dropped her hand.

In response she gave him a sad smile and patted his cheek.

The rest would come in time.

///////

Hotch and Emily stood in front of the glass of the nursery grinning like idiots at baby boy Jarreau/LaFontaine. Emily reached over and tugged excitedly on Hotch's arm, "we have a baby!"

He raised an amused eyebrow as he looked down at her. And Emily rolled her eyes at him as she corrected herself, "okay WE don't have a baby, but," she grinned as she swept her arm out with a grin, "but _we_ do."

This was the best. Mom and baby were healthy. And baby was perfect with his little red wrinkled face and ten little digits on the hands and the feet.

He was adorable.

Emily ran her finger down the glass, her smile starting to fade as she stared intently as the tiny little fingers. Her eyes began to burn as she said quietly, "I want a baby."

Staring into the nursery the way she was and her clock had suddenly starting gonging like Big Ben.

Hotch looked at her for a moment . . . she wanted a baby. He hadn't thought about that before. He'd barely come to grips with his own feelings for her, so he hadn't given any real consideration yet to future plans.

He just wanted to get to the point . . . hopefully before social security kicked in . . . where he could tell her that he loved her.

But this was something else.

A baby.

With everything going on the past few weeks he had completely forgotten that she wanted a child of her own. And if he wanted to be with her . . . and he so desperately did . . . then that child would be his.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest as he pictured her pregnant. Emily pregnant with his baby. And he realized that this was something he wanted very badly.

Unfortunately he couldn't tell her that right now. You can't tell a woman that you want her to carry your child before you tell said woman that you're in love with her.

That was in poor taste.

But he could see that she was sad, and that wouldn't be tolerated. So knowing Garcia would be talking to Morgan for at least a few minutes, he felt comfortable enough to step forward, wrapping his arms around Emily from behind as he pulled her back against his chest.

Then he put his chin on her shoulder as he sighed, "you'll have one of your own someday Emily."

It was true, someday they would have a baby. Of this he was sure. Even if he had to go pick her one out of the cabbage patch himself.

As she sniffled and looked through the glass, Emily pictured a baby with dark hair and dimples. But she didn't say that . . . she didn't say anything. This was a slippery slope she was walking on now. They had discussed her desire for children previously, but that was in the abstract.

This was in the concrete.

And the "I want a baby" had just slipped out in that unexpected wave of melancholy. Hotch already knew that she wanted a baby. And they had discussed her plans for possibly going forward with adoption.

What they _hadn't _discussed was that she now had decided that plan was on hold. The only reason she was adopting was because she hadn't thought she would ever fall in love with a great guy who would be good father for her hoped for baby.

And then to her astonishment, she had found a baby daddy right under her nose. She _was_ now in love with a great guy, and Hotch was already a wonderful father.

Though she realized that she didn't know if he wanted to have more children, but that wasn't really a topic of discussion right now.

That was something down the road, off in the mist.

No, for now she would just happy with them as they were. Let their relationship continue to build, and see where it led. Hotch loved her, she knew that, but she still didn't know how much. And how much more he would be ready for in the short term.

And nothing will destroy a relationship faster than one person telling the other, "I love you" before both parties are on the same page.

So this was clearly _not_ the right moment to tell him she wanted to have his baby. He'd be like one of those cartoon figures whose image is hanging in the air after they've sped off.

And as she felt his warm body pressed against hers, and his hand gently rubbing her stomach, she knew . . . she wasn't about to do anything to screw this up.

* * *

_A/N 2: The godmother thing and JJ blurting out that it was Garcia. That was the first thing that came to me when I saw the episode originally, before I was even writing at all. I sort of pictured that awkward moment whenever you have a group of friends and somebody gets "picked" to do something and then other people's feelings get hurt. And sometimes feelings get hurt even when you know it's not personal. But seeing it from Emily's POV (in the show) I thought that would kind of suck if right when JJ asked Garcia, if that was the first moment Emily had heard the decision. Because if I was her, I would have been like 'wow, that hurts. Little heads up maybe?'. Even if I knew that JJ wasn't answerable to me at all. But once I started thinking about it, Hotch's reasoning made sense to me so I went with it. But I still thought that initial moment of Emily finding out wouldn't have that logic base to it. It would just be that "ouch" moment instead._

_I'll address one point that Arcadya "asked" Emily in her beta notes. Whether she'd given any consideration to how Penelope would feel if Emily asked JJ to be her nonexistent baby's godmother. And I responded for Emily that of course in that nonexistent child scenario, Emily would have had a heart to heart with Pen about her decision :) And she would NOT have let her find out via text message proxy!_

_We've got probably another 14 or so chapters for November. I KNOW! I was surprised myself but that's what the table of contents has on it. We've got a bunch more canon to cover (52 pickup included) and then some of my own story arc stuff. But next up will be Jack's birthday. Coincidentally they just did it on CM like 2 weeks ago but unfortunately they didn't date stamp the ep (or if they did I missed it). So I'm going with my original November presumption based on the timing of his birth ep in season 2. _

_Lastly, I am writing a JJ/Rossi offshoot story also covering the birth of Henry. So watch for that over the next week or so. _

_**Other story updates**__: My muse is like on crack this week so new chapter of Communication Breakdown tomorrow, Pound of Flesh on Friday, Three Long Mountains & Communications Breakdown on Saturday, maybe a Pound of Flesh and a Girl on Sunday. I told you last week I had a bunch written, well they're pretty much all to the last step before posting so I just have to read them over. Don't get used to it of course :) God knows the next time we'll have regular postings like this!_


	118. In Laws & Out Laws

**Author's Note**: If you haven't been to my profile page then you might have wondered why I fell off the face of the earth. I've had a bit of writer's block. It turns out that when the show makes contrived, ridiculous plot twists that completely F up the dynamics of the team, it can actually kill my poor little muse. I honestly thought she was completely dead. I looked at EVERYTHING I'm working on and I couldn't find one story to play in anymore.

Literally the only idea I had was a totally AU. H/P meet in a different world, one where he's still a prosecutor, and presently I have her in the CIA. It's not fabulous and it's essentially just a couple little scenes right now but that was literally the ONLY thing I could write so I just went with it to keep engaged in the writing process. I was going on the hope that the longer I stayed away from the show itself, the more time my muse would have to recuperate. It seemed to have worked. Yesterday, all of a sudden, I knew how to write again. I opened this chapter, I knew exactly what was wrong with it and I just fixed it. It's really kind of freaky/creepy how you can "lose" a skill.

Anyway, the chapter. Jack's birthday party. Probably not what you were expecting but, when is it ever? :)

*******************************************

**In Laws & Out Laws**

'_God this sucked.'_

Hotch shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

It was Jack's birthday and he was at Haley's new place sitting . . . he rolled his eyes . . . okay, hiding . . . in the corner of the living room.

Though Haley's new house was nice, unfortunately it didn't come with all of the features that Hotch would have liked. For instance a moat.

A moat would be nice.

Then he could shove Haley's mother into it and pull up the drawbridge.

He scowled at the old bat sitting across the room. The woman had been giving him the evil eye since his arrival at her daughter's.

Hence the hiding in the corner.

It was his half assed attempt to play nice and avoid bloodshed. After all it was his son's birthday and Hotch wanted him to have a nice day.

And preferably that day would not involve memories of Daddy shooting Nana.

But the witch was making it rough on the non-shooting front. For Christ's sake she'd actually called him Alex!

ALEX!

Like they hadn't been RELATED for twenty years! She was just a horrible, horrible woman. And Hotch knew that, he'd always known that, since long before he'd even got married. So he was trying not to let her bother him.

Except the problem with that approach was, now that he wasn't married to Haley anymore, he didn't have to put up with her mother anymore. In the past he had to tolerate his mother-in-law's wretched behavior because it was a requirement to keep the peace.

Now there was no longer a peace to keep.

So he wanted to just tell her to shove it. Especially because he knew that today in particular she was busting his balls not just on principle . . . her usual reason . . . but specifically because of Emily.

Not that Emily was _here_, but as soon as Hotch had arrived Jack had started looking for her. And though Hotch had already told his son that she would see them this weekend, still Jack kept asking for her.

'_Where's Miss Emily? When's Miss Emily coming? Can Miss Emily have cake with us?' _

And basically every other variation on the question of her arrival. And each time her name passed Jack's lips, there would be another awkward silence from the adults in the room and another nasty glare from his **EX** mother-in-law.

It was getting to the point that Hotch seriously just wanted to leave. But it was son's birthday and he refused to be driven from the house. Especially given that Jack and his cousins were still running around playing so they hadn't even had the cake yet!

So as he sat in the corner twiddling his thumbs, Hotch had begun distracting himself by running through scenarios of what he could do to the Wicked Witch of Northern Virginia. His favorite . . . well, his _legal _favorite . . . was blowing up a picture of her to bring with him on his next trip to the range.

He sighed . . . but unfortunately that was simply a plan for next week. Not a plan for right now. And he honest to God wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to sit here. He certainly didn't want to ruin Jack's fun, but maybe he could quietly ask Haley what time she was planning on cutting the cake. That wouldn't be rude, right?

He'd already been here . . . he furtively tipped his wrist to check the time only to hear.

"Oh Alex, are we keeping you from something?"

His head snapped up, and he was just about to go with Plan A and tell her to shove it when to his amazement, Haley beat him to the punch.

"Mom that's _enough_," Haley said sharply before turning to her ex-husband with an embarrassed smile, "Aaron, would you mind helping me get the drinks?"

She didn't know why her mother insisted on blaming him for the divorce. As many times as she'd told her parents that it was a mutual separation (mostly true . . . at the end anyway), her mother never missed an opportunity to take a dig at him.

Though, if Haley were honest with herself, she'd admit that her mother had never really approved of her choice of husband. Which, all things considered, was rather ridiculous.

Haley might have divorced the man but she still acknowledged that on paper he was a catch. Most mothers would have been thrilled if their daughter married a gorgeous, well bred, well mannered future attorney.

But not hers.

And that was because before Haley had met Aaron, she'd had been dating another boy. One that eventually became a periodontist.

_His_ mother and _her_ mother . . . were friends.

And Haley was pretty sure that her mother had somehow blamed Aaron for breaking up that relationship. A relationship, which was in reality, going absolutely nowhere!

But . . . Haley shot a small scowl at her mother . . . you couldn't tell the woman anything she didn't want to hear.

Hotch practically jumped out of his seat.

"Of course I'll help you get the drinks Haley."

It was the first time in over a year that he'd actually wanted to kiss the woman standing in front of him. Hotch gave Haley a little smile but as soon as she turned towards the kitchen he shot her mother a nasty glare . . . the type he usually reserved for UNSUBs.

And then he hurried after his ex-wife.

He caught up with her in the kitchen just as she was leaning down to take two large cans of juice from under the cabinet. She passed them to him and then he walked over and took the can opener out of the drawer next to the stove.

It wasn't until Hotch was walking back across the room did he realize that even though he'd never been in this kitchen before, he'd still known exactly where to find this particular implement.

For a moment he felt little wisp of melancholy, but he quickly pushed it away. Shaking his head slightly, he began to work the cans open. He glanced up to see that Haley had started unfastening the twist tie on the bag of SpongeBob cups.

It was quiet in the room. From this part of the house the sound of the children playing in the den was faint.

Hotch remembered that once upon a time a moment like this . . . working together . . . it would have been a comfortable silence. Given his schedule, preparing meals together in the kitchen like a normal couple was actually a gift of time that he hadn't taken for granted.

But those happy years were long gone.

Things weren't as awkward between them now as they had been when they were first divorced, but this silence was still anything but welcoming.

Though . . . he rolled his eyes . . . it was infinitely better than the nightmare of spending more quality time with his ex mother-in-law.

As Aaron began filling the small cups that Haley was placing in front of him, she finally asked the question that had been on her mind since her ex had walked in the door.

"Why didn't you bring her?"

Haley was still working on accepting Emily having a role in her son's life, but one thing that she did know was how fond Jack was of Aaron's friend. And Jack had been crestfallen today when his father had show up without her.

And whatever her personal feelings on the matter, it pained Haley to see her son's little heart broken in such a way.

Such a _preventable _way.

For a moment Hotch pretended that she hadn't spoken. He just continued carefully measuring out half servings of white grape juice into the little Dixie cups.

Four more cups had been filled before Hotch acknowledged to himself that simply avoiding answering the question wasn't going to work.

Certainly not in the long term anyway.

So he put down the can of juice, folded his arms, and looked over at his ex-wife.

"I didn't bring her because I thought it would upset you."

He knew there was a bit of a tone in his voice but it couldn't be helped. Though Emily had glossed over the Halloween custodial transfer, a few days later Dave had mentioned to Hotch what had happened. Dave had done it in an effort to point out how well Emily had handled things.

How maturely.

But what Hotch had taken from the conversation was that Haley was at best uncomfortable, and at worst . . . jealous, of Emily's role in Jack's life. And given that Hotch wasn't exactly sure yet what Emily's role in Jack's life would become, he hadn't wanted to dump any more fuel on that fire right now.

After all, it was one thing to have Jack and Emily together on Halloween. That was when Hotch had full custody and control over who his son saw. It was another thing entirely to show up at his ex-wife's house on a Tuesday night with Emily in tow.

It was a family birthday party. And though Hotch indeed considered Emily to be family, it would have clearly been a sign to not only Haley, but to the rest of her family . . . the witch included . . . that Emily was now playing a much larger role in both his life, and Jack's.

Basically it would have been a declaration of intent.

And with his mother in South Carolina, and his brother in New York, there wasn't anyone here BUT Haley's family. So Emily's unexpected presence in their midst would have been awkward to say the least.

That said, Hotch had regretted his decision not to bring her the moment he'd seen Jack's face fall. It honestly hadn't occurred to him how much his son would have been looking forward to seeing her.

That . . . to him . . . it was just a given that Miss Emily would be there for birthday cake.

But that was a mistake that Hotch would not make again. Unfortunately it was too late to rectify it at that point, so he'd just whispered to his son that they would see Miss Emily on Friday. And then he'd hugged him and told him that she had sent him a happy birthday wish and whole bunches of kisses just like he had done for her birthday.

By the time he was done talking to Jack and had glanced across the room, he'd seen the biddy shooting him daggers.

It was about that point that Haley's mother had begun riding his ass like they were at the rodeo.

His jaw twitched at the memory . . . hateful old bbbwitch.

Though it was just in his mind, he still automatically corrected his language. His mother wouldn't approve of such thoughts about any woman.

Even her.

With a weary sigh, Haley dropped her eyes down to the floor, "Aaron I already know that Emily is . . . important to you," she cleared her throat, "I know that she's important to Jack," she dragged her eyes back up, "you could have brought her. I was kind of expecting her."

Though she hadn't actually extended the invitation, she'd braced herself for the other woman's appearance. It seemed that more and more lately Jack was talking about things that daddy and Miss Emily did together. And Haley was starting to think that perhaps the nature of their relationship was changing.

And if that was the case, then clearly Emily was going to start showing up at family functions.

Though Aaron hadn't said anything to Haley about that, really, why would he? The first conversation was a courtesy. He certainly wasn't under any obligation to inform his ex-wife of who he was sleeping with now.

Not that she'd _want_ such information. Actually the thought of it kind of made her skin crawl. They might have been divorced but she still didn't really wish to entertain the possibility quite yet that he had completely moved past their old life.

No, really . . . as far as Aaron's personal life went _now_ . . . Haley just cared about how it affected Jack's life. And by extension, whether or not any woman was stepping into a care giving role with him.

And . . . she stared at her ex husband . . . that clearly seemed to be the path they were heading down with Emily.

Jaw twitching, Hotch stared at Haley for a moment . . . well . . . shit!

Apparently he should have just _asked_ Haley rather than assuming that he already knew what she was thinking.

'_Yeah, the surprise divorce papers really should have been a sign that you didn't have the first CLUE what she was thinking there Aaron!'_

He looked over at her hopefully, "well, then would it be all right if I called her now?"

This would be the test of whether Haley was just paying lip service here or if she genuinely was okay with Emily's presence in their lives. If she wasn't then he'd rather know sooner than later what boundaries he was working within.

Haley looked down and took a breath. When she looked up back she gave Aaron a sad smile, "yes, you should call her. That . . . " she took a breath, "that would make Jack happy."

And that was all that really mattered . . . their son.

If having Emily here would give Jack a happier birthday then Haley was just going to have deal.

Though as she watched Aaron's face light up, she couldn't deny that hurt her in a way that she hadn't thought was still possible.

Hotch reached over and squeezed her shoulder, "thank you Haley," and he turned away, pulling out his cell phone.

Her eyes dropped down to the floor as she said softly, "you're welcome." But then she realized that he wasn't listening. He was already talking to Emily. Giving her directions. And that's when Haley realized that she had never heard her ex use that particular tone of voice with anyone but Haley herself.

And that was back when they were happily married.

Apparently they were a bit further down that path than Haley had realized.

As he took a few steps away and she heard him lower his voice, Haley turned back to finish filling up the cups of juice.

She blinked back the tears in her eyes.

'_God this sucked.'_

*******************************************

_A/N 2: I haven't looked at any other chapters yet but ideas are once again swirling in my head so I think that (fingers crossed) my brain is unfreezing. Now I have to get my hair cut before I try and hack it off myself with a pair of dull gift wrapping scissors (it's a little long) but later today I'll take a look at my other stories and see if I can get anything else up this weekend. If you'll recall, I was pretty close to done on like a half dozen things so, in theory, if my brain is working properly again, I should be able to wrap what needs to be wrapped in short order. BUT, if my brain goes on the fritz again i.e. I disappear for more than 3 days, then check out my profile. I'll put a note up if my brain is broken. _

_And lastly, I'm NOT watching the show anymore. Which seems weird given I write the characters (and I'm grateful for the initial inspiration to write at all) but I just can't risk them f'ing up my muse again. SO, if they happen to show H/P making out or anything good, please give me a heads up (I'll be recording the eps) but I won't be watching anything for quite some time. It's just better this way. The show is just a show, but I LOVE to write. So I can live without the show, and I know I can technically live without the writing, but I don't want to. If I have to choose between the two, there's just no contest. So as much as I ordinarily love to discuss plot points with you in PMs :) seriously unless you're writing to tell me that they are making out or it's some other great H/P moment that might spark inspiration, it might be best if we put a little moratorium on that for the time being. The goal here being to make sure that canon doesn't kill all of the fake worlds once removed :)_

_If you're in the States, (or Canada or anywhere else they celebrate today) Happy Halloween! In honor of the day I'll see if Pound of Flesh has a chapter ready to put up. And if you're looking for something scary, if you haven't read it, I wrote a story called The Snake Pit. It creeped me out writing it so, again, if you're looking for something "scary festive" you might like it :)_


	119. Prim & Proper

**Author's Note**: Not too much happens here plotwise. Mostly we're taking the pulse of their relationship to date. Basically it's just a night out in a bar.

And no, I'm sorry, but it's not the smackdown chapter :) I have decided that I'm going to do that one as an offshoot stand alone story. November is already packed with canon eps to cover, plus some dramatic twists that will affect team dynamics. No room for fluff there. And then going into December their relationship will intensify and her symptoms are going to start coming into play. The way I had it in my head it was always a lighter evening without any underlying drama. After this chapter I think we're pretty much always going to have some thread of drama pulling them forward. So there's just no good place for trivia night. Therefore we'll pop back to the trivia outing earlier in the year. Perhaps some point in the summer months when H/P were getting to know each other. Back in the good ole days of the lightning rounds :)

*******************************************

_Early November - Thursday_

**Prim & Proper**

Emily put her beer back down on the table and leaned into Hotch's side, smiling as he laughed at something Reid had just said.

She knew that he'd have a good time once he actually got out.

That morning at the briefing Garcia had convinced 5/6th of the team that they needed to try out a new Irish pub that was advertising 'All U2, All the Time' Thursday. And then Emily spent her lunch hour convincing the remaining one sixth that she would guarantee a good time if he would just agree to come out for three hours.

After a brief back and forth Hotch negotiated his participation down to ninety minutes. Which was really all that Emily was trying to get anyway. She was a little tired and didn't want to stay out all night.

She was also hoping that she could get Hotch to sleep at her place. And the earlier they got home, the earlier they could go to bed.

More bedtime meant more cuddling time.

A point that Emily was planning on making to Hotch as soon as she got him alone and proposed tonight's sleeping arrangements.

Their occasional sleepovers had increased from their initial three or four a month to three or four a week. Tonight . . . if she got him over . . . would be three since last Saturday.

And he had Jack tomorrow so . . . she frowned slightly . . . this was actually the last opportunity she'd have to cuddle up before this Saturday night.

That was her own fault though.

Hotch had asked her to come over for dinner tomorrow but she'd told him that she had a few errands to run so she'd just see them on Saturday morning. He'd been disappointed but Emily thought it was important that Hotch and Jack have some time alone together.

So . . . though it sucked for her . . . she had decided that if they were going to spend all day Saturday (and half of Sunday) together . . . which had become the new normal since Halloween . . . then she should try to leave the Hotchner boys alone on Friday nights.

As much as she loved being with them, Emily knew that Jack should have his father's undivided attention for a few hours a week.

This was the second week in a row of her new one day off policy and she really hated it. Not only did she miss them terribly last Friday, but she'd gotten used to a certain routine and now she really didn't know what to do with the extra time by herself. For tomorrow she was leaning towards Chinese food and a chick flick.

It killed time last week so she figured she might as well try it again.

Emily also knew that she couldn't keep saving all of her errands for Friday evenings. No matter how good her intentions might have been, she still refused to lie to Hotch so she really was planning on grocery shopping and going to the pharmacy. But she was going to have to let Hotch in on her thought process soon before he started getting suspicious about how she was spending her Friday nights.

She wouldn't have even felt the need to use the misdirection that she was if she hadn't known that Hotch would dismiss her concerns as being silly. He'd tell her that Jack loved her and that she was always welcome with them.

Which . . . though she knew was true . . . didn't change her viewpoint that this is what was best for her boys.

But she wanted them to have a couple of weeks of 'quality time' so that Hotch could see that too. But she figured her point would be made by next week. If she didn't give him a heads up by then about why she was really avoiding him on Fridays then she could possibly screw up the happily ever after plans.

He might think that she had started seeing other men or something else equally ridiculous.

Not that she and Hotch were actually dating in the dictionary definition of the word, but she still felt accountable to him as though they were.

Suddenly Emily felt his hand slide along her leg under the table.

Her lip quirked up . . . THAT right there was why she felt accountable to him.

Once you give a man free reign to place his hands pretty much anywhere he wanted to on your body then you had an implied covenant of responsibility towards one another. And it was really nice having someone to be responsible to again.

It was also good practice for the down the road plans when the happily ever after relationship wasn't just theoretical.

If you're used to living your life alone being accountable to nobody but yourself, it's helpful to have a little period of adjustment before you moved off into a state of couplehood. So she'd decided that she'd make the best of the delay in moving forward with him, and just embrace the positives of the waiting period.

Practice makes perfect and all that crap.

Her hope was that maybe they could work out some of the kinks now before they moved on to other things later. It sounded like a good idea when she got it in the shower last week, and it was certainly a healthier approach than simply pining away.

That would have been pathetic. And things were too good to start acting pathetic.

Things were actually _really_ good tonight. Even though Hotch had protested the outing . . . she rolled her eyes, he wanted to do 'paperwork' . . . he'd definitely embraced the time off once they'd arrived.

His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up within ten minutes. His arm was around her within fifteen.

And now Rossi was up at the bar on the prowl, Morgan was off dancing with Jordan (he had been since they arrived), and that left Emily and Hotch alone at the table with Reid, Garcia and Kevin. The three younger members of their group were having a spirited debate about Comic Con that Hotch seemed to actually finding quite amusing.

And Emily, well she . . . her hand slid down to cover his on her leg . . . couldn't have been having a better time either.

Feeling Emily's fingers glide over his, Hotch turned to flash her a dimple. She grinned at him in return and he winked before turning back to the ridiculous conversation that he had been listening to for the past ten minutes.

Reid and Kevin were making plans for attendance at the next Comic Con. An event that Hotch had never heard of before but was apparently quite a big deal in their lives. It was some sort of comic book convention as far as Hotch could tell. He'd have to ask Emily later to explain it to him better.

Whatever it was, to Hotch's amusement they seemed to actually wear outfits to this . . . convention. And right now the younger men were narrowing down their choices.

Kevin was torn between Wolverine and Aqua Man. Hotch wasn't quite sure who Wolverine was but he did recall Aqua Man from his youth. And he really didn't think it was quite dignified for a grown man to get dressed up essentially as a Mermaid.

But, for the sake of not making anyone feel uncomfortable, Hotch was keeping his thoughts on that point to himself.

Reid on the other hand was down to The Incredible Hulk or Spock. Hotch DID know who both of those characters were and he really couldn't see Reid as The Hulk.

Not unless he put on about fifty pounds.

Though Hotch really couldn't even see him as Bruce Banner either. Spock though, that seemed right up Reid's alley. And that was the one the girls were trying to convince him to go with.

Overall Hotch was having an excellent time just, well, 'hanging out.' He was actually having such a good time that he thought he might actually extend out the ninety minutes to two hours.

He still wanted to get home early.

And then he heard a new song come through the speakers and Emily turned to him with a grin.

"OH!"

The DJ had begun playing _With or Without You_ and Hotch knew that was one of her favorite songs. She'd certainly turned it up enough times in enough SUVs around the country.

So his eyes crinkled as he held out his hand, "come on Mrs. Bono."

He knew she wanted to dance before she even opened her mouth.

Emily's lips quivered for a second before she took his hand and he pulled her up from the bench. And then they cut through the crowded bar over to the even more crowded dance floor.

Apparently the U2 promotion was a smash.

It really tickled Emily that Hotch was up for dancing tonight. Given the number of couples on the floor she thought he'd take a pass because he didn't generally like being in a small space with this many people. Not that he was claustrophobic. He just didn't consider it particularly safe, too many unknown variables.

But he'd been better about that lately. Relaxing that was.

After all she'd gotten him out with the whole team three or four times a month since the summer. In prior years, three or four appearances by Hotch would have covered the entire year.

He was better for the social interaction though . . . at least Emily thought so.

Finally finding a spot on the floor which was not in visual range of Morgan and Todd, Hotch stopped and tugged Emily against his chest. He let his hand gravitate towards its normal position on her lower back and then slid it back up three inches . . . and then back down one.

Emily had just put her arm around his neck and started laughing.

"Problems?"

What the hell?!

Shaking his head in exasperation, Hotch looked over her shoulder to scout the bar again, "the team's here and we've been very careful not to give any of them the wrong idea, so I just thought maybe it would be best if I . . ."

Emily cut in with a snort, "if you didn't get caught with your hand on my ass?"

He glared down at her "something like that."

She started to chuckle and then Hotch came back indignantly, "and I do not put my hand on your ass! I just have a better grip on your lower back."

With an unladylike snort, Emily leaned back, "better grip? What are we in a wind tunnel? Where am I going to go?"

It was always fun to watch Hotch justify his physical interactions with her as being logic based as opposed to what they really were . . . emotion based.

Narrowing his eyebrows in irritation, Hotch stopped dancing completely and crossed his arms at his chest.

"Would you like to go back to the table Emily? Because we can go back to the table right now if my 'technique' is such a problem for you."

Of all the . . . he's just trying to be cautious about starting tongues wagging and she's busting his balls!

Lowering her gaze down to their shoes, Emily got her grin under control before she looked back up at him contritely. And then she responded in one long run on sentence.

"No, I don't want to go back to the table, any woman in here would be privileged to have the experience I am having now, you really are an excellent dancer."

Her lip started to quiver and she quickly clamped down on it again. That wouldn't do right now. He had his Mr. Potato Head angry eyes on at the moment. And that meant that he would really take her back to the table if her apology wasn't sincere.

Hotch stared at her suspiciously for a moment before his expression relaxed and he tipped his head, "all right then."

That's better.

He pulled her back into his arms and as they began moving again Emily muttered something unintelligible against his chest. His eyebrow went up as his gaze dropped down.

"Did you just say something?"

Eyes wide, Emily looked back up innocently, "who me? No."

Since when was his hearing that good?

Hotch's eyebrow went up another quarter inch as they stared at each other for a moment. Then he huffed slightly as he pulled her back against his chest. He was quiet for a second before he said matter of factly, "for future reference, the line is excellent driver, NOT excellent _dancer_."

If she was going to go around calling him Rain Man then she should at least get the quote right.

Emily's eyes were sparkling as she leaned back and grinned, "my you're just a _fount_ of useful information this evening, aren't you sir?"

She tossed on the sir for his amusement.

He responded flatly, "for you Prentiss, I try."

It was impossible to stay irritated with her for more than a minute. And really . . . he inhaled the remnants of her perfume . . . why would he want to be mad at her anyway?

That was ridiculous.

Emily laughed and then Hotch winked at her and she knew that all was forgiven. So with a happy smile she slid her arms around his waist and settled her cheek against his dress shirt. And then two seconds later she realized that he might have a small point about not looking _too_ cozy in front of the others so she repositioned herself a chaste two inches back.

Jordan _was_ new, and Emily hadn't quite decided what she thought of her yet. Both Hotch and JJ had run down her credentials but lots of people looked good on paper but sucked in real life.

But beyond her concerns there, Emily also knew that Garcia loved to gossip.

And given that she and Hotch hadn't discussed their relationship with each other yet, she sure as hell didn't want to start hearing other people talking about it in the ladies room!

Really, Emily was just happy to be out with Hotch engaging in social activities almost like a normal couple. She could certainly stand on ceremony for one night.

After her realization of a few weeks ago, she'd been afraid that she'd start acting strangely around him. But fortunately nothing like that had happened. And that was because she'd come to see that she was in a better position than most people would be if they suddenly realized that they were in love with their best friend.

She and Hotch had already become very affectionate, and well . . . her brow wrinkled slightly . . . 'coupley,' months ago. So her conscious awareness of the depth of her feelings for him had simply added another layer to the happiness she'd felt around him before.

And fortunately she wasn't stuck with any stupid feelings of jealousy either. Drunken Vegas excursions notwithstanding, Hotch barely so much as glanced at other women.

He most definitely wasn't a Dave . . . or a Derek.

Also, the few women that Hotch did look at were usually ones that Emily had pointed out for one reason or another.

No . . . her body moved a little closer to his . . . she was in a very sweet and affectionate relationship with a good man who made her laugh and catered to almost every silly whim that she had.

That was more than most people had.

Basically the only thing they still weren't doing was having sex, and she could wait for that. She rolled her eyes . . . she'd certainly waited long enough as it was.

But that did remind her of what she wanted to ask him earlier. She leaned up slightly so she could murmur in his ear, "can you sleep over tonight?"

Hotch's expression softened as he turned his head to kiss her temple. And then he whispered, "absolutely."

THANK GOD!

If she hadn't asked him over then he was going to ask her over to his place. That was why he didn't want to stay out all evening. He definitely needed that connection with her tonight.

Some way to reassure himself that she was . . . for all intents . . . his.

For weeks now he'd thought that point wasn't in dispute. But the last couple of days he'd started to feel a little bit of uneasiness on that front.

That somehow he'd lost his claim.

And that was because of the errand 'thing.' He didn't understand what the hell she had to do tomorrow night that was so important that she couldn't make it over for mac and cheese! And as he said the words aloud in his head he realized how ridiculous that sounded.

After all, most people would consider having hot dogs and macaroni and cheese with a three year old . . . correction four year old (he just had a birthday Aaron) to be an activity of low priority on their social calendar.

But Emily _wasn't_ most people.

She adored Jack, and Hotch didn't understand why she didn't want to come over. Errands!? What the hell kinds of errands had to be done on a Friday night when there was a little boy (and a big one) anxiously awaiting her company?

Jack had been expecting to see her last week and had definitely been disappointed when he found out she wasn't coming over. It wasn't quite the crestfallen reaction he'd had on his birthday when he didn't think she was coming, but it was close.

Hotch had to distract him with SpongeBob DVDs and a Candyland marathon. It was torture for him but Jack was happy again.

Though not nearly as happy as he was the next morning when Emily showed up at nine o'clock with a box of donuts. And she'd seemed perfectly normal as she gave them both a kiss hello so Hotch figured that whatever 'errands' she had to do the night before were legit.

But that was last week.

This was now TWO weeks in a row that she'd bailed on Friday night dinner with the them! And he was seriously starting to wonder what was up with her.

When she'd told him yesterday that she couldn't come over again he'd had a brief flash of fear that she had a date. But then he told himself that he was being ridiculous.

He was sure that Emily had feelings of some kind for him so why would she have started dating again? Over and over he told himself that idea was stupid.

Still though . . . the thought persisted.

And he'd started to wonder if maybe she was indeed dating but only because she wanted to see if he'd get jealous and say something.

Not that Emily was in any way inclined to be so manipulative, not at all.

But really . . . he hugged her in closer . . . that fear that she'd move on without him was a real one.

And he honestly didn't know what he would do if she said that she was going out with someone. Really, he had no legitimate grounds to object.

They were . . . he scoffed to himself . . . "just" friends.

But unless he wanted to have his heart ripped out, it would definitely be put up or shut up time. And he was terrified that it was going to come to that because he knew . . . he still just wasn't ready.

He might actually shut up . . . and then he would lose her.

Suddenly he felt her hands slide around his waist and his anxiety levels started to drop.

Moments like this . . . with her cuddled against his chest . . . he couldn't envision a world where she would leave him for someone else.

It seemed ridiculous.

Still though . . . he kissed the top of her head . . . if she disappeared for no reason again he was definitely going to have to ask her what was really going on. Even if he wasn't prepared for the answer, he still needed to ask the question.

But for now . . . he sighed . . . there was no reason to ruin their good time with his probably needless worrying.

His lip quirked up as _All I Want Is You_ came through the speakers . . . and irony takes a bow.

Figuring that was a good sign for their relationship, Hotch decided not to return to the table like he'd planned. Comic Con discussions had nothing on dancing with a pretty girl.

One . . . he kissed her temple again . . . that he was still 98% sure was his.

Emily was surprised when Hotch stayed on the dance floor through _All I Want Is You _and _Stuck in a Moment._ But then she was absolutely delighted when he decided to twirl her around for _Elevation_.

Normally he wasn't a big fan of fast songs, but sometimes he surprised her. And when the song changed again she was slightly breathless as she grinned up at him.

Part of the breathlessness was the dancing, part of it was just being with him.

At her smile, the corner of Hotch's mouth quirked up and a dimple appeared, "I figured I owed you for arguing about coming out tonight," he touched her cheek, "I am having a good time."

Even if she wasn't dating now, if he didn't want to lose her in the future he had to start being more expressive with his feelings for her. If he didn't find some way to make it clear how he felt then why wouldn't she move on to somebody else?

Somebody who was capable of expressing his feelings for her in a way that Hotch himself wasn't right now.

He stroked his fingers down her cheek . . . well, he could be that guy too.

All he needed was a little practice.

Emily smiled up at him, "me too.

As soon as she realized that the song had changed to another faster one, Emily started to turn to go back to the table . . . she wasn't going to push her luck . . . but Hotch caught her hand and tugged her in the other direction.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she followed him across the room . . . where was he going?

And then he called back to her over his shoulder, "let's wait a minute, I like this one."

He really just wanted a few more minutes alone with her. A pseudo date was better than no date at all.

After they reached the far wall, Hotch leaned back against the brick and ran his eyes over the crowd again.

Emily looked up at him a soft smile . . . he was so adorable when he was in Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Mode.

And as that thought came to her she realized how completely and utterly gone she was if she now found it adorable just to see him doing his . . . correction THEIR . . . job!

Somebody call the schmaltz police!

As a girl brushed past her to get to the bathroom, Emily took it as an excuse to move further into his space.

Any excuse really would have worked.

Feeling the warmth of Emily's body against his, Hotch glanced down and pulled her flush against him. And then she tipped her head back to look up at him and all of his worries faded away again as his eyes crinkled.

'_God she was beautiful.'_

After taking a quick look over the crowd immediately surrounding them . . . all strangers . . . Hotch placed a quick kiss on her lips and pulled her in for a hug.

"I'm really glad we came out," he whispered into her ear.

And to think he wanted to stay late tonight and process Thanksgiving vacation requests.

Idiot.

She murmured back against his chest, "I'm really glad we came out too."

And as much as she'd love to stay with him in this exact position for the rest of the night, she knew that it really wasn't the wisest move given their concerns about throwing any grist into the mill.

They were close to the bathrooms and anyone on the team could head down this way.

Generally they used her behavior with the other guys as a guide to what was acceptable for her and Hotch in public. And she certainly didn't snuggle up with Reid in dark corners of smoky bars.

So with a little sigh she loosened her hold on his torso and turned herself around again.

It would be nice when she could just be herself with him. And then she sighed, 'couple more months Em.'

Now that she'd disentangled herself, Emily thought that Hotch would just put his arm around her . . . that was acceptable.

But to her surprise . . . well, surprising given his concerns . . . he pulled her back against his chest again and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Figuring she'd let him take the lead tonight, she leaned back and then smiled as Hotch started tapping his fingers against her hip to the beat of _Bad_. And then his other hand slid around to rest on her stomach.

She placed her own hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers.

'_As long as she had this, then she could definitely wait for the other stuff.'_

///////

Rossi was heading to the bathrooms when he caught sight of Hotch and Emily in the shadows in the back of the pub. He'd been busy chatting with a busty redhead at the bar so he hadn't realized that they'd slipped away from the group.

It wasn't a surprise though.

More often than not they tended to separate themselves from the others. Not that they were anti-social, if anything Emily had actually gotten Hotch to be much more outgoing than he had been in the past, but it was clear that they preferred each other's company over anyone else's.

Nobody took offense. Though most of them had commented on the amount of time Hotch and Emily spent together, it had been such a gradual change since the spring that Dave was pretty sure that they didn't assume that there was anything there besides simple friendship.

Things that were right under your nose sometimes escaped your attention . . . that was the case for behavioralists too.

Especially when they had unwritten rules about profiling one another.

They made a conscious effort NOT to read into each other's behavior. So if the others weren't looking for it, then they probably hadn't seen yet what Dave was seeing.

But that was just as well.

And really, Rossi was just happy to see Hotch had come out of the cloud that had been enveloping him since Dave had returned to the unit. Not only was he less heavy hearted than he was in the past, but he was also more expressive now. More likely to give Reid a quick pat on the back if Morgan was riding him too hard, or he'd give Garcia a small grin if she said something ridiculous.

They were small things for most people, but huge ones for Hotch. But of course the biggest change over the past six months had been the change in his interactions with Emily.

Recalling how much physical distance Hotch kept between the two of them when Dave first arrived, it amused him to see how he was with her now.

For instance as Dave watched them in the shadows, he could see that even though Hotch was leaning back against the brick, he had his arms wrapped possessively around Emily's waist.

Rossi smirked . . . as behavioral reads went this one was a no brainer.

'_She's mine.' _

Yet Dave knew from the recent spate of longing glances that . . . though they did both at least seem to have a clue now . . . still neither of them had done anything about it yet.

Fools.

Being a man of advancing years, Dave knew how short life could be and he just couldn't understand what it was they were waiting for. If they were happy together then they should be together.

He didn't get the confusion there.

They had dangerous jobs and if Hotch's near miss at the crack house had taught them anything it was that their continued survival and good health was mostly a matter of luck.

God only knows how much time any of them had.

With a roll of his eyes, Dave continued over to the men's room.

'_Love, like youth, was another thing wasted on the young.'_

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Dave foreshadowing of course. I know on the show they try to pretend like Dave is only 54 (of course they also pretend that Hotch is 43 – it was on his medical records in the season opener) but that's just stupid. He couldn't have had the career he did if he was that young (nor could Hotch for that matter). And though JM is actually like 63 or something I've rolled Rossi's age down slightly to 58 just because I think that works best for him. _

_**Side note**__: I don't know if you recall but a few months ago I made a note that I'd made up a history for Rossi that included him going into the military before he joined the FBI. Well I was SO tickled to see that on his very special ep a couple weeks ago that he did indeed say he'd joined the Marines fresh out of high school! Go me and my totally random background creation! Granted I said Army but Marines works too. And I didn't actually put the service branch into a story yet so I haven't written anything that I need to correct :)_

_To what's next, I have nothing written for Masterpiece. That's that episode with George Costanza wearing the English barrister's wig. Or something like that :) Anyway it wasn't really an H/P ep at all so I think rather than attempting to bullshit something related to the episode itself, I'll just do a post ep that night revolving around Emily's "errand" situation. Perhaps with a nice dose of 'completely flying off the handle' jealous Hotch. When I originally wrote this chapter it didn't have that insecure angle for him but after all the girly angsting I've been putting Emily through over in Communication Breakdown when I was doing the final I thought turnabout was fair play. So, though I don't intend to make him have the neurotic breakdown Emily did, I think one more chapter of him playing 'what ifs' in his head would work._

_Also, given how "perfect" their relationship is by the time The Hours starts, I am working in a few normal couple hiccup phases now with them here. Even though they aren't 'technically' together, as Emily said, it's good to work out the kinks. Which would actually make it more realistic that their relationship is as mature in The Hours even though they've technically just gotten together. And to that end, later in the month they'll have a huge break up worthy fight. That's something I could never do over in the Hours, write genuine conflict like that with them. She was sick, Hotch sure as hell wasn't going to be screaming at her about anything. And really all the stupid dramatic fights people have, they tend to let that shit go when there's a bigger picture being shoved in their faces. Of course once everybody's safe and healthy we often go right back to treating each other like crap :) But, such is life._

_I might get something else up tomorrow. I have draft chapters put together for I think all four of my shorter ongoing stories right now. Hopefully I'll get something up for at least two of them over the next week. Plus Girl, I have a good bead on the next Girl chapter so that'll be up before next weekend. I'm kind of excited that we're actually running in synch with real life right now! It's early November in their world,and early November in our world. The Hours actually got posted in real time (whether or not you realized it when it was happening :)) But I don't think we've ever been matched up before in Girl. It'll be nice if I can keep it together going into the holidays but that shall depend on the muse. If you give her the occasional shout out, sometimes it helps :)_


	120. Suspicious Minds

**Author's Note:** This is a follow up to the little seed planted in the last chapter about "Friday Night Dinner." Now I feel like I'm writing Gilmore Girls. If you got that good, if you didn't, don't worry about it :) This is also a half assed post ep for Masterpiece. I make some illusions to events that happened earlier in the day for them but you don't need a refresher on that ep to read this. If you're reading Communication Breakdown, this is sort of the feminist version of what happened to Emily over there. Here Emily is the one who is totally oblivious and Hotch is the one that goes all around the mulberry bush. So he is a bit unHotchlike, but keep in mind that he's hurt and jealous and angry, and that's really not a good look on anyone.

This chapter makes reference to fictional factoids from Emily's past (i.e. stuff I made up) from Chapter 11, _The Wife Meets the New Girl_. Chapter 11, my what a very, very long time ago that was. I was _literally _a year younger when that went up!

**Two Side Notes:**

**One** – I am like a week behind in my review/PM correspondence. So thank yous all around for the feedback :) I will try to get back to everyone over the weekend.

**Two** – **The Hours is coming down this weekend**! Girl is hitting the home stretch and I need to start cleaning up The Hours so the early chapters will be good to go as soon as Girl is done. Given how much I'm changing it, I don't want it sitting out there any longer. It'll screw up the flow of the stories. But I thought you guys would like a heads up because I know some of you like to go back and reread it occasionally.

More about this in the 2nd A/N.

* * *

**Prompt Set #5**

Show: Will & Grace

Title Challenge: Hey La, Hey La, My Ex-Boyfriend's Back

* * *

_Episode – Masterpiece_

_Early November - Tuesday_

**Suspicious Minds**

Hotch walked out of his office to hear Emily laughing, "no, no, I think that was your mother that said that not mine!"

His brow wrinkled, 'who was she talking to?'

Not that it was actually any of his business. But still . . . he slowly walked down the steps, trying not to look like he was eavesdropping . . . he was curious.

Besides that though . . . Hotch held up a case file in front of her . . . he wasn't just being nosy, there was actually business to conduct.

And she was the only one here besides him to conduct it.

Rossi said he'd had enough of this place for one day and had gone home early. And Reid and Morgan were escorting Rothschild through booking. So, for analysis, that left Hotch there with just Emily.

He caught her eyes and she smiled and nodded as she directed her words to the person on the other end of the line, "listen I gotta go."

And then Hotch's eyebrow quirked up as her gaze shifted away from his and she said quietly, "uh, well, I'll have to get back to you on that." Then she was quiet again before she said, "no, it's not the time. That's not . . ." she glanced up at him and then quickly looked away, "it's just that I _really_ have to go now," then she added hastily, "Sully . . . yes, _fine_. I'll let you know. Goodbye."

Emily dropped her phone into the cradle and looked up at Hotch with a bright smile, "what's up?"

For a moment Hotch just stared at her. He could feel his blood running cold.

Sully.

That was her ex-boyfriend's name.

Why was she talking to her ex-boyfriend? And what did she need to get back to him about? Something about the time.

His brain started running down possibilities that sent his temper through the roof.

'_Were they getting together? Was this why she hadn't been free for dinner the last two Fridays? Was she off with HIM while Jack sat crestfallen waiting for her to come over?!'_

Though part of him knew that he could be jumping to conclusions, he was suddenly royally pissed off at her. So much so that he couldn't even speak for a second.

At the protracted silence Emily's smile morphed into a look of confusion, "Hotch, you okay?"

His color was funny.

Hotch's jaw twitched before he responded with a clipped, "I'm fine," he held the file up, "I need you to look this over and get me a preliminary before you leave tonight."

And without another word he dropped the case file on her desk and stormed back to his office.

Utterly perplexed at his behavior Emily stared after him for a moment.

_What the hell was that about? They closed the case, nobody died. This was a good day. What could have knocked him completely off his game? _

She frowned . . . and even when he was in a bad mood, he didn't usually take it out on her.

Actually . . . come to think of it . . . he _never_ took it out on her. Sometimes one of the guys, but that was pretty rare too.

Really, it was generally that he had less patience if he was in a bad mood. So if somebody irritated him then he was more likely to say something to them than he would be otherwise.

But the only time Emily heard that tone directed at HER, was when they were fighting about something in their personal life. And they really didn't have that many serious disagreements that it had come up that often.

Her brow wrinkled . . . wait, were they fighting about something and she'd forgotten?

Emily ran down their time together so far that day . . . coffee, briefing, and then the case.

Those were all of the interactions that they'd had. And they didn't have any disagreements during the case so she figured something must have happened since the takedown.

She rolled her eyes . . . probably Strauss related.

Evil witch.

Well . . . Emily flipped open the case file . . . now wasn't the time to get into it with him. If she hunkered down she could probably be done with this case eval by five and then she could ask him about it on their way out.

So with that thought in mind she tuned out the rest of the noise in the bullpen and started reading over the details of the child murders up in Buffalo.

/////////

Hotch stared blankly at the paperwork on his desk. He kept picking up different things to work on but all he could see was that smile on her face as she talked on the phone to her ex-boyfriend.

Emily's Ex.

Otherwise known as the _twice_ decorated for valor Agent John Christopher 'Sully' Sullivan of the Drug Enforcement Agency. Hotch knew about the valor decorations because one of them had been this past summer.

That's how his name had come up the first time. And Hotch had just filed it away as one more factoid about Emily Prentiss' past.

The one boyfriend she'd ever had that Hotch hadn't wanted to pummel just on principle.

By all accounts . . . all of _Emily's_ accounts . . . Sully was a nice guy.

And at the time Hotch remembered being happy that the woman who was fast becoming his closest friend had once had a man treat her as well as he thought she should be treated.

Sully was once a man that Hotch had wanted to meet. But of course back then Hotch had no romantic interest in Emily himself.

Now Sully was a threat.

Hotch couldn't have the ONE nice guy she'd ever had a long term relationship with turn up again NOW! This was going to ruin everything!

His heart began to sink . . . oh God, was she _really_ seeing him again? That conversation sounded like they were getting together.

But the few times that she'd mentioned him she'd implied that he was still living in Chicago.

Yeah Aaron . . . he rolled his eyes at his own idiocy . . . people do MOVE, you know!

Of course people moved. They moved all the time. Emily was transferred to DC, so who's to say that her ex couldn't have been transferred too?

A horrible thought came to Hotch then . . . maybe he REQUESTED the transfer! Maybe he was still in love with her and he was trying to get her back!

And why wouldn't he want her back?! She was perfect. That guy was a moron for letting her go the first time! Maybe they only broke up because Emily transferred. Maybe they would have stayed together and had 2.5 children by now if she was still in Chicago!

Oh Christ . . . Hotch scrubbed his hands down his face . . . what the hell was he going to do?!

This was his worst nightmare . . . well worst was her or Jack dying . . . but second worst was him losing her in some other way.

And that could very well be what was happening right now. But how was he going to find out for sure?

The shrill ring of his desk phone broke his concentration, and he looked over to see an LA area code flashing on the screen.

Fuck . . . his fist pounded down on the desk . . . that was Strauss!

She was in LA and he'd forgotten that they were doing their weekly briefing via conference call. It would figure that would be at this exact moment when she was the absolute LAST person that he wanted to talk to.

Evil witch.

With a grunt and a roll of his eyes he picked up the handset just before it bounced to voicemail.

"Ma'am."

//////////

Emily did a quick spell check on her report and then hit print. As the little printer pop up window appeared on her screen she checked her watch.

5:47

Okay, that took a little longer than she had expected. But it was definitely done, done.

And . . . her eyes shifted up to the closed door office door . . . hopefully Hotch was in a better mood now and she could find out what was bothering him earlier.

She went over and grabbed her paperwork off the printer . . . siphoned out the three emails of Agent Wong's that were stuck to the back . . . and then clicked a staple into the four pages of analysis that were left.

After that she went back and grabbed the case file off of her desk and jogged up the stairs to Hotch's office. The door was shut but she could see through the blinds that he was alone, so after a perfunctory knock she opened the door and popped her head around the corner.

"Hey, I finished up that eval."

Hotch's head snapped up, "what? Oh . . . good."

And then his brow darkened as he remembered that he was mad at her. For what exactly he hadn't decided yet. But clearly something was going on that she wasn't telling him.

Something . . . he scowled . . . that had to do with unexpected disappearances and mysterious phone calls from perfect ex-boyfriends.

So rather than asking her to sit down like he usually would, Hotch just pointed at his in-bin as he said sharply, "put it there please."

Emily stared at him for a second and then slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

"What's wrong? You've been acting funny for a couple hours."

She'd hoped that whatever was bothering him would have been less of an issue by now, but if anything he seemed more agitated.

Definitely more pissy.

Holding his eyes steady on hers Hotch shook his head dismissively, "nothing's _wrong_, I'm just busy. So if you'll excuse me . . ."

And he gave a pointed look towards the door.

Emily looked over incredulously.

'_Was he fucking kidding?! Did he actually think he was kicking HER out?'_

"What? No, I won't EXCUSE you," she crossed her arms at her chest, "there's obviously _something_ wrong Aaron. You're biting my head off and," she rolled her eyes, "attempting to kick me out of your office. Attempting to kick me out I might add, AFTER I brought in the analysis that was vitally important that you get back today. And that really doesn't make any sense at all now, does it?" she finished in a huff.

And then, realizing that upping the angry quotient in the room wasn't going to help anything, Emily took a breath and got her emotions back under control again.

She didn't want to get mad at him, she wanted to help him. Feeding off of his nasty mood wasn't going to help anything.

So both her expression and tone softened as she took a step closer to his desk, "Aaron, come on. Just tell me what's bothering you. You know that will make you feel better."

He'd told her more than once that he always felt better after he talked to her about his problems. So why was he being so damn stubborn and grumpy today?

Hotch stared at her being her sweet usual self, and for a second his anger started to fade.

'_Maybe he was being too . . .'_

And suddenly he again flashed on her telephone conversation . . . and her avoidance of him and Jack . . . and his jaw hardened again.

"Prentiss," he snapped, "I have work to do, just . . . please LEAVE and let me do it!"

Okay . . . he mentally cringed . . . that was kind of loud.

Emily's eyes started to sting . . . he'd just yelled at her.

He'd yelled at her for NO good reason! **AND** he'd 'PRENTISS'D her behind closed doors! What the hell was going on with him?!

Seeing the look of hurt on Emily's face, Hotch felt a wave of guilt and remorse.

Asshole.

Hotch knew then that no matter how pissed off he was at her he couldn't talk to her like that.

Especially . . . his conscience annoyingly reminded him . . . given that he didn't know for sure if she'd been lying to him about her whereabouts on Friday nights. He didn't know for sure if her ex really WAS the reason she'd been ditching him and Jack.

He was just assuming.

And as the saying went, he was possibly making an ass out of himself.

Besides that though . . . he saw her eyes watering . . . the kicked puppy look on her face was killing him.

His expression softened as he shook off his anger and jealousy and stood up. Then he walked over and rubbed her shoulder, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm just . . . I have a headache."

_Brother if that wasn't the truth. And it's name was Sully._

Emily looked up at him warily. And then she asked softly, "do you want me to get you some Tylenol?"

It must be a pretty bad headache if he was being so mean to her.

Hotch flinched . . . and now she was being nice to him. He was being snappish and jerky and she was being nice to him.

God . . . his insides twisted into knots . . . was she actually the devil sent to drag him off to hell?

He tried to conjure up a smile for her, but he just didn't have it in him. The love of his life was potentially seeing another man.

Not exactly smile time.

So instead he took the file out of her hands and dropped it on his desk. Then he stepped over and shut the blinds and hit the lock on the door.

If he couldn't give her a smile he could at least give her a hug.

As he turned back from the door he saw her looking at him worriedly, "are you sure that there's nothing else wrong?"

He'd had headaches before, hell he had headaches all the time, he didn't usually act like this.

Seeing the look of concern on her face, Hotch debated for a split second just flat out asking her. But then he remembered that this just wasn't the time or the place to get into it.

As personal discussion topics went, this ranked pretty high on the list. And most likely it was also going to be a protracted, UGLY, personal discussion. One where he called her a liar and she called him a bastard, and well, they most definitely didn't have THOSE at work!

Inappropriate wouldn't even BEGIN to cover it!

So he shook his head as he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms, "no. No, nothing's wrong," he tipped his head down to hers, "I'm sorry."

For just a second Emily remained stiff in his arms, and then she leaned her head against his chest and huffed, "you yelled at me for NO good reason."

At her rebuke, Hotch flinched before he pulled her in closer. And as he rubbed his hand down her back he whispered, "I know. I'm sorry," he kissed her temple before he asked hesitantly, "do you forgive me?"

As soon as she felt his lips touch her skin, Emily knew that he was forgiven all sins. But still she took a moment to let him stew before she slowly exhaled, "I suppose," and then she tipped her head back and gave him a look, "but don't do it again, okay?"

Though it wasn't at all like him to act that way, she'd like to make damn sure that they didn't have a repeat performance.

His eyes stung slightly as he saw the hurt still on her face. And then he nodded firmly, "understood."

When she finally relaxed in his arms he pulled her closer and rested his chin on her head.

'_Way to go Aaron. Treat her like shit for no tangible reason at all. Then she'll definitely want to stay with you forever!'_

_This_ was EXACTLY why he hadn't said anything to her yet! He still SUCKED at relationships!

But if he didn't shake off this suspicion soon then he was definitely going to fuck things up between them. He couldn't go around biting her head off and second guessing everything she said.

That was crazy . . . and well . . . creepy.

Possessive, controlling men did that. And he was not that guy. He was not going to BECOME that guy.

So he needed to deal with this maturely.

And then he realized that there was a way to find out for sure if something was going on with her and the ex. Something quick and bloodless that he could do now.

He'd see if she claimed 'errands' again for Friday.

NOBODY did errands three Friday nights in a row. So if she did claim . . . LIE, the still indignant part of his brain corrected . . . and say that she was, then Hotch would know that she was seeing Sully.

That phone conversation as good as confirmed that Sully was trying to make plans with her. And Friday was the only night she'd been acting shady about, so that had to be . . . his jaw clenched . . . 'date' night.

He pushed aside his rising irritation to focus in again.

Okay, but if she said she COULD come over for dinner with them, then, well, Hotch would allow the possibility that he was potentially extrapolating a conclusion that was not yet supported by the evidence he'd have in hand.

Though obviously SOMETHING was up with her and the ex, if she _wasn't_ seeing him this week, then perhaps it wasn't as bad as Hotch thought.

Because really . . . right now . . . all he thought were things that made his skin crawl.

So HOPEFULLY she'd come over for dinner like normal, and then he could push those images out of his head. And then after Jack went to bed on Friday, Hotch would try to figure out a diplomatic way to ask her what the hell she'd been talking to Sully about on the phone today.

That sounded like a good plan to him.

So he murmured against her hair, "are you coming over for dinner Friday?"

Emily's eyes widened in alarm as she stared at the third button of his dress shirt like it held all of the answers to the universe.

"What?" she stammered, "um, I . . . um, I'm not sure. I might have a . . . thing."

A THING?!

She mentally castigated herself . . . God, how lame can you be Emily?!

It was just that he had taken her COMPLETELY by surprise. He was being all cranky and mean and then he was being all sweet and cuddly. So she most definitely wasn't expecting him to ask her _that_ question right THIS second, and she'd panicked.

She rolled her eyes . . . a thing.

Of course she'd known that she couldn't do errands three Fridays in a row, but she wasn't prepared at the moment to have the real conversation with him. It was going to be involved and he was probably going to be cranky about it. Besides, that was a personal conversation.

And they didn't do personal stuff at work.

Well . . . she felt his warm body pressed against hers . . . there was occasionally a hug.

But that was it for their off duty lives bleeding into their on duty personas. And those hugs were few and very far between.

It had been months since an office hug.

One . . . he suddenly stepped away from her . . . that was ending rather abruptly.

Hotch's breath caught and he turned away from her, letting his eyes slide over her shoulder to the piles of folders on his desk.

"I'm sorry Emily but I really do have to get back to work," he said huskily.

His heart was ripping into shreds and he absolutely couldn't have her in the room with him any longer.

She had a 'thing' Friday. She wasn't even pretending to have errands anymore.

Now it was a 'thing.'

Out of the corner of his eye Hotch could see her looking at him in confusion, so his gaze snapped back to hers as he added remorsefully, "I am very sorry for how I behaved," his eyes slid away again as he added softly, "I promise it won't happen again."

_Not if you're moving back to Chicago with Agent Wonderful it won't._

Emily looked up at him in complete befuddlement, and then she stepped closer and touched his cheek, "come over tonight, I'll get pizza and we can watch Planet Earth."

It was clear he was stressed out, and nature documentaries always helped him relax. Not to mention the proven recuperative powers of a good cuddle.

Hotch still refused to look at her as he said quietly, "I have to work late tonight."

That was not a lie. He was backed up. But either way, he absolutely could NOT spend time alone with her right now.

Not with all of these images in his head. He didn't even want to touch her.

And . . . his eyes started to sting . . . he always wanted to touch her.

Even though he'd just broken off the hug, she stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around his waist again, "I'll wait up and we can watch the DVDs in bed," she tipped her head back and gave him a soft smile, "and we can have cold pizza. You like that better anyway."

Whatever this funk was, she wanted him out of it by the time he went to bed tonight. The stress was bad for his blood pressure.

Hotch tipped his head noncommittally as he directed his words over her shoulder, "maybe," then he patted her back awkwardly, "I'm sorry Emily but I really do have work to finish."

'_PLEASE LEAVE!!' _he screamed in his head.

She pulled back and nodded, "okay," just as she was about to turn and leave she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a quick smack on his lips.

Of course that was not allowed in the office at all.

But . . . she wiped away her lipstick . . . he obviously needed one right now.

Then she patted his arm, walked over to the door and slipped back out with a little wave.

"I'll see you tonight."

He might have said 'maybe,' but he was coming over tonight if she had to hog tie him and throw him into her trunk.

The door clicked shut and Hotch's hand came up to touch his lips.

They burned.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes and went back to his desk.

/////////

As the little red number on the cable clock ticked over from 8:59 to 9:00 Emily put the television on mute and picked up her cell phone.

He couldn't possibly still be at work. And if he was she was going to kick his ass. They had pizza cooling on the counter and beers chilling in the fridge. She was in her nice warm flannel pajamas with his academy t-shirt underneath.

All she needed for a perfect evening was a nice warm Hotch to cuddle with and she didn't have one in the house yet.

So she picked up her cordless and dialed his desk phone. And then she waited as it rang . . . and rang . . . and rang.

Voicemail.

Good . . . she nodded firmly . . . if he'd picked that up she would have killed him.

Next she tried his cell phone.

Huh.

Voicemail.

That's weird. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch for a moment trying to think where he'd be.

Well . . . she rolled her eyes . . . how about HOME Emily? It is nine o'clock. The man should be home.

Actually . . . she punched in his house number . . . he should be at HER home but that was a minor quibble at the moment.

He must be at _his_ home.

Except . . . that phone also bounced to voicemail . . . he wasn't picking up there either.

She started to feel a little tickle of worry in her stomach. He was awfully upset earlier.

Actually . . . the little tickle became a full grown scratch . . . he didn't say he was upset. He said he had a headache.

A bad headache.

Maybe he was sick or something and that's why he wasn't picking up.

She tried his cell phone again . . . and then his house phone again . . . and then his cell phone again . . . and then his house phone . . .

"Emily."

She was so startled that he'd answered that she almost dropped the phone.

"HOTCH!" she almost yelled, "where have you BEEN!? I've been worried sick. You weren't answering any of your phones."

He stared down at his cell phone next to him on the couch showing the five calls from her that he hadn't picked up.

"My cell phone's dead," he said quietly.

It was the first time that he'd ever lied to her. Then he sighed, "did you need something?"

She frowned . . . did she NEED something?!

"YES," she exclaimed, "I NEED you! Where are you? You were supposed to come over and watch documentaries and eat cold pizza with me," she pouted, "my pizza is cold, my beer is cold and I'm cold. So when are you getting here?"

He was silent for a moment and then he said softly, "I can't make it, I'm sorry."

Emily was quiet for a minute as her eyes filled with tears. And then she asked in a near panic, "Aaron, are you sick!? Is it still your head? If it's that bad maybe we should go to the hospital."

Even though he was upset with her, hearing the pain in her voice exacerbated his own pain tenfold. And his eyes burned as he shook his head, "no, I'm not sick. I promise. I'm just not . . ."

And he stopped.

This was stupid. He couldn't just avoid her. That wasn't going to solve anything.

Nor . . . he swallowed . . . was lying to her about why he wasn't coming over.

Even if she couldn't be honest with him about what was going on, he could at least be honest with her about why he was upset.

"I just don't want to come over Emily. I don't want to . . ." he swallowed, "well, honestly, I don't want to see you right now."

That was going to hurt her . . . but it was the truth.

Feeling a terrible stab of pain in her chest, Emily's tears spilled over, "why don't you want to see me? Did I do something?" a sob broke free, "just please tell me what it was that I did that's upset you so much and I'll make it right!"

Even though her crying was about as painful as his broken ribs had been, Hotch stood his ground.

Emily was the one that was in the wrong here. Not him.

She lied.

And as he remembered that, his tone hardened slightly as he answered her, "you lied to me. And I would have thought that after all this time that you would have more respect for me than that. If you were going to start dating again then you should have just told me," his voice started to get husky, "instead of making up lame excuses about why you couldn't spend time with my son."

"AARON, I'M NOT . . ." Emily cried, but Hotch cut her off, "I DON'T want to talk to you right now Emily," and he hung up the phone.

He rubbed his hand across his mouth.

Great . . . he slumped back against the couch . . . now what the hell are you going to do tomorrow Aaron? You idiot. You have to SEE her tomorrow. And you have a broken heart and now you've left her crying in her apartment.

Yeah, that should make a real comfortable work environment.

His hand started to curl around the phone again but then he dropped it.

No . . . he shook his head . . . no more tonight. He'd deal with it tomorrow. If she was seeing her ex again then he needed to decide what he was going to do about his own feelings for her.

They certainly just weren't going to go away.

And those feelings were separate than the ones of hurt and anger and betrayal he was feeling right now.

She'd lied to him. She'd avoided him . . . and most egregiously . . . she'd avoided Jack.

That wasn't okay.

If she had just told him what she was doing he still would have admittedly been devastated and panic stricken right now, but he wouldn't have been angry and hurt too.

Granted, he would have been jealous and possibly kind of pissy. But definitely nowhere near as upset with her right now as he was at the moment.

Feeling the lead weight in his chest, Hotch rubbed his hand involuntarily across his heart.

As though he could just massage the pain away.

He huffed humorlessly . . . if only.

All right . . . he pushed himself off the couch . . . he'd go get his laptop and focus in on murder and mayhem for a few more hours.

After all, he had all of his sleeping time to stare at the ceiling and wonder what the hell he was going to do about Emily.

///////////

Stunned, Emily looked down at the buzzing phone in her hand.

He'd hung up on her . . . she started to cry harder . . . he'd hung up on HER!

What the hell was he even talking about!? She wasn't DATING anyone! And what the hell did he think that she lied to him about!?

_'THINK EMILY!'_ She screamed in her head.

She sniffed as she tried to stop crying . . . wait, what did he say about Jack?

'_Making up lame excuses about why you couldn't spend time with my son.'_

Oh God . . . and then all the pieces suddenly fell together . . . he was pissed at her about missing Friday night dinners!

But wait, no . . . her brow wrinkled . . . that wouldn't be enough to get him _that_ upset. He would have just asked her flat out what she was doing. He wouldn't be as angry as he clearly was with her right now.

Actually . . . the tears started to pool again . . . it wasn't anger.

He was hurt.

Somehow she'd hurt him and she didn't know how. He thought she was dating and that she'd lied to him about it.

But why would he think something so ridiculous?

Okay . . . she tried to approach it clinically . . . he seemed fine yesterday so something happened today that made him think that. She closed her eyes and ran down everything that she'd said or done over the past twelve hours.

THE PHONE CALL!

Her eyes popped open . . . Hotch walked up when she was talking to Sully!

She'd totally forgotten but she'd actually said Sully's name when he got her flustered. And Hotch knew who Sully was. They'd talked about Sully before.

Oh God . . . she groaned . . . she'd been avoiding him on Friday nights and then he walks up when she's laughing on the phone with her ex boyfriend.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Emily leapt off the couch and ran over to grab her sneakers off the floor.

"Big, stupid ex boyfriend fucking up my happily ever after," she muttered under her breath.

He just HAD to call her today! He HAD to be in town this week. He HAD to ask her to meet him for coffee just as Hotch walked up!

No wonder Hotch thought she was being all shady. Okay, granted she was being kind of shady. But not for any of the reasons that he clearly thought she was being shady.

'_Okay Emily . . . no more lying to Hotch EVER, about anything! No matter how stupid it is you spill your guts!'_

And the really ironic thing was, she'd shot Sully an email before she left the office telling him that she didn't think that coffee would be a good idea because she was kind of seeing someone.

Things had ended amicably between them, and they had kept in touch casually over the years, but Emily hadn't wanted to send Sully any mixed signals.

No . . . she rolled her eyes . . . she was saving all the MIXED signals for the man she was in love with!

Gah! Why was her life SO ridiculous!?

Well, it didn't matter if Hotch wanted to talk to her tonight or not. This . . . she went over and grabbed her coat off the chair . . . was something she was fixing right now.

But then she paused for a moment as she looked back and forth between the pizza box and the safe. For a second she felt like she was in The Godfather.

'_Take the cannolis, leave the gun.'_

Eh . . . she went over and punched in the code . . . she'll take the cannolis and the gun. She was just going ten blocks to his house but . . . she slipped her pistol into her pocket . . . she wasn't planning on coming home tonight so she'd need this in the morning.

The last thing she did before she ran out was grab the beer out of the fridge.

////////

Hotch's brow wrinkled in irritation when he heard a knock on the door.

'_Now who the hell was THAT?'_ he grumbled to himself.

He hit save on his report and went over to check the key hole.

Of course . . . Emily.

Well, he probably should have anticipated that move. Damn it. How many different ways could he say that he did NOT want to talk to her right now!?

Then his traitorous stomach growled as he saw that she was carrying pizza.

And of course he hadn't eaten.

Not to mention, if she was already out of the house in her pajamas, there was just NO way that she was going to go away if he ignored the knock. And as proof, a second later he heard her say.

"Open the door Aaron. We need to talk."

The tone didn't broker any room for discussion so he sighed and turned the deadbolt. Then with a grunt he opened the door and looked down at her in annoyance, "what?"

She looked up at him, "I'm not seeing Sully. He's in town for a conference this week and he called to ask if I wanted to get coffee. I told him no. Now," she tipped her head towards the kitchen, "you chew on that while I go into the kitchen and put the beer in the fridge. And while I'm in there you're going to lock the door and then you're going to go sit down on the couch," her eyes flicked past him to the living room, "you're going to close up whatever you're working on and then you're going to sit there and wait for me to come back."

And with that pronouncement she pushed past him and turned into the kitchen.

Flabbergasted Hotch stared after her for a moment . . . of all the . . . and then her words permeated his brain.

She wasn't seeing Sully . . . she told him no.

He felt an indescribable wave of relief cascade over him . . . OH THANK YOU GOD!

But wait . . . the wave rolled back out . . . then what the hell was she doing on Friday night? Seeing some _other_ guy?

Christ . . . he rolled his eyes . . . there was no point in speculating.

'_Just do what she said to do Aaron,' _the little voice in the back of his head yelled.

So he did as she instructed. He locked the door and went back into the living room mumbling to himself, "how was it possible this woman ran his life even when he was upset with her?"

As he started shutting down his computer he heard her yell from the kitchen, "did you eat?"

His stomach growled again and with a sigh he called back, "no."

As long as he was going to be subjected to a heart wrenching discussion with his non-girlfriend he might as well have some pepperoni.

Yeah . . . that'll hit the spot.

Emily came back into the room a moment later carrying two beers and the box of pizza. She put them down on the table before shimmying off her coat, which she tossed over to the end chair. Then she looked down at him sulking on the couch and shook her head.

What was she going to do with him?

She kicked off her sneakers and climbed into his lap, straddling his waist from the front so that her knees were on the couch. In this position he couldn't go anywhere and he couldn't look away from her.

They stared at each other.

His hands were still at his sides as he asked hesitantly, "you're _not_ seeing Sully?"

One thing at a time. They'd get the Sully situation cleared up definitively and then he'd find out what she was doing when she was off without them.

Emily shook her head, "no, definitely a thousand times, no. He just _happened_ to be in town this week and he just _happened_ to call and ask if I wanted to meet him for coffee at the exact moment you walked up. Aside from an email on my birthday, and a voicemail from him after Colorado, I think that's the only contact I've had with him in a year."

That should clear that up.

But as she saw the questioning look still in Hotch's eyes, Emily leaned in close, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, "me avoiding you guys on Fridays has absolutely _nothing_ to do with any other man. I just thought you two needed some time alone together. And I didn't tell you that right away because I figured you'd fight me on it and I just really thought that this was something you needed," she leaned back and looked at him for a moment. Then she ran the back of her hand down his cheek as she added sadly, "but if I'd realized that you'd completely misinterpret my reasons for staying away, of course I would have said something to you right away."

As he continued to stare at her without any expression, Emily's lower lip began to quiver, "I'm sorry. I never meant to upset you and Jack," she sniffled, "but I really wasn't lying to you," she tipped her head, "I mean, I wasn't completely honest, but I did do errands because that's what I told you I was going to do, and I specifically _didn't_ want to lie," her eyes stung, "I really thought I was doing a good thing."

Hotch stared at her for moment longer . . . and then his expression morphed to one of disbelief as he asked incredulously.

"You were REALLY only avoiding us because you thought we needed some time alone?"

It couldn't possibly be that simple, could it?

She nodded, "uh, huh. Now that we're spending Saturday nights and Sunday morning together I thought it was important that you and Jack get some time back for yourselves," she gave him a sad smile, "you don't need me around all the time."

Even if she needed them, that wasn't the same as them needing her.

Hotch scowled at her, "Emily I do need you. I need you all the da . . ."

And he stopped.

His tongue had gotten away from him for a second, and he'd started to say a bit more than he'd planned to. But then he remembered his resolve of the other day to start being more open with her about how he felt. And as upset as he was a few minutes ago, that had all vanished the moment she wrapped her arms around his neck and said her disappearance had nothing to do with any other man.

So she hadn't lied to him. And she wasn't doing anything that was going to rip his heart into shreds.

Even if his behavior today had proven to him that he wasn't quite ready yet to really jump into another relationship, he could clearly see now that he needed to start moving forward somehow before he lost her another way.

Bottom-line, he needed to get it into gear before she really did move on with someone else.

So for the first time since she arrived his hands moved off the couch and slid up her body. And when they reached her waist, his eyes locked with hers as he said quietly, "I appreciate that you were thinking of what was best for me and Jack, but sweetheart . . ." he brushed her hair back behind her ear, "you're as much my family as Jack is. So I'm about as likely to send you away as I would be him."

These were baby steps, and that was as much as he could say today.

Emily's eyes filled with tears, "family? Really?"

A dimple broke through the thunderclouds that had been on his face a moment before, "really, really."

She bit her lip before she asked worriedly, "so we're good."

When he'd told her he didn't want to see her that was the worst pain she'd felt since she'd seen those bullets knock him across the room.

Losing him in any way . . . it just wasn't an option.

Hotch nodded and gave her a little smile, "we're good." When she flashed him a brilliant grin, he pulled her against his body as he sighed, "Emily Rose Prentiss, you . . . you . . ."

He had a thousand things to say right there, but he didn't want to blurt out something he wasn't ready to say. So instead he turned and kissed her cheek before whispering, "you are the reason that I have all this grey hair."

Emily wrapped her arms around his neck as she chuckled in relief, "I've got news for you honey, you had those long before I came along."

Thank God he wasn't mad at her anymore!

He leaned back and smirked, "actually, my hair was almost completely black until the fall of 2006."

Banter seemed more important than ever at the moment.

She laughed as her fingers ran through his little salt and pepper spikes, "I'm going to need some photographic evidence before I buy that story."

A faint smile passed over his lips, "later we'll pull out the Christmas party photos from '05. But for now," he reached around her to grab one of the beers off the table, "we should eat."

Now that he wasn't having a nervous breakdown that he was losing her to a fictional new boyfriend . . . he was famished.

Hotch took a swig from the bottle before passing it to her. And as she was drinking he again reached past her, this time to grab the pizza box.

Of course he could have reached more easily if he just moved Emily over to the couch.

But . . . he ran his free hand up and down her thigh . . . he liked her where she was. Twenty minutes ago he was afraid he was going to lose her forever.

Having her now sitting in his lap was about the only good place for her to be.

After Hotch flipped open the box lid Emily put the beer behind her and turned to grab a slice, "my God I'm starving," she winked at him, "angsting really works up an appetite."

His lip quirked up as he took a bite of his own slice . . . ain't that the truth.

Emily had devoured one slice and was half way through her second before she asked Hotch matter of factly, "do you think it's weird that neither of us think it's weird that I'm sitting in your lap as we eat pizza?"

It seemed like it should be weird . . . but it wasn't.

"Not at all," Hotch scoffed. And then before she knew what was happening, he'd snatched the last bite from her fingers and popped it into his mouth. And then he said as he chewed around her pizza, "how else am I going to have such easy access to your dinner?"

Her jaw dropped, "I can't believe you just STOLE my pizza!"

Bastard!

His fingers danced along her sides as he swallowed and then grinned.

"It's nothing you wouldn't do to me."

If she hadn't come over and cleared this up, he might not have had her here with him like this for days. And to think, _he_ was going to stay in and be miserable tonight and just deal with it tomorrow.

Idiot.

Her mouth quivered, "true."

In actuality over the past five months she'd probably stolen enough food off of his plate to feed a small village in Africa for a year.

She started to shift to grab her beer but then she froze, "as much as I don't want to get up I think I'm getting a cramp in my leg."

Hotch frowned, "okay, hold on," he leaned over to move the pizza box to the couch and then she slid over to the cushion next to him. He pulled her legs into his lap, "which one?"

She pouted, "left," and then bolted upright as she grabbed her thigh and yelped, "GAH! CHARLIE HORSE!"

'_OH __**FUCK**__ THAT HURTS!!!'_

As much as he hated seeing her in agony, Hotch now at least knew exactly where to put his hands. So he pushed her fingers aside and began gently kneading her leg.

The muscle was rock hard.

When she whimpered he bit his lip in sympathy before whispering, "one second sweetheart, it'll feel better in one second."

Emily was too busy biting through her lower lip to respond verbally so she nodded her acknowledgement of his statement with a sharp nod.

And then a second later, the spasm passed and she slowly exhaled.

_Thank you God! _

She closed her eyes as Hotch continued massaging her upper thigh. An activity she was more than happy to let him perform.

Though . . . she felt a little jolt . . . if he was going to put his hand in that spot again then they were going to have a problem.

Well, a problem only in the sense that she'd need to jump his bones and he might not be quite prepared for that reaction.

Hotch realized that his hands had just strayed into a dangerous area and he slid them back down again.

Though make up sex would be nice . . . that wasn't really in the cards unless he had a conversation with her first.

And that wasn't happening tonight.

So he slowly moved his hands down her leg, rubbing her calf last before he stopped and whispered, "all done."

She opened her eyes and they stared at each other for a moment. Then she winked at him and put her hand out, "come lie down with me."

A make up cuddle.

It might not be as well known as make up sex, but for their purposes, it would work just as well.

He looked over the beer and pizza on the table and then the DVDs in the cabinet. He patted her leg, "one second," and he got up and took down the Planet Earth discs that she'd wanted to watch tonight. He slipped the third one out of its sleeve . . . that was her favorite . . . and put into the machine. Then he went back to the table and separated all of the remaining pieces of pizza.

Easier for grabbing from the couch.

After that, he went into the kitchen and got two more beers, stopping to hit the deadbolt (Emily wasn't going anywhere tonight) and the lights, before he came back to the couch.

The beers went down on the coffee table which he then pulled an inch closer to the couch.

Once Hotch had done all of the usual going to bed prep, Emily scooted over so he could lie down. And then she clamored on top of him and he wrapped her up in his arms.

After they were settled into their usual position and Hotch had hit play on the DVD, he kissed the top of her head, "let's try this again. Are you coming over for dinner Friday night?"

She grinned against his chest.

"I'll bring the hot dogs."

* * *

_A/N 2: I picture Sully as being the exact same guy who was Bones' Sully over on Bones. "Booth Lite" :) Of course Bones had FBI Sully and Em's was DEA Sully, but still, same actor. And who's to say that boat didn't sink and he changed agencies. Morgan did! _

_Arc, Hotch's "idiot" to himself was for you. Arcadya's beta notes all the way through were pretty much just yelling at Hotch for being stupid :)_

_Beyond that, this was a brand new addition to the story that I just wrote this week and hadn't had planned. But again, I'm trying to wrap this baby up so they needed a catalyst situation for Hotch to start moving forward with the declarative stuff and the reality that she wasn't going to wait forever worked nicely for that. I also saw it as an opportunity to show where their adherence to complete honesty and openness comes from. That's an overbidding trait of their relationship in the next two stories and you can see that they learned from their mistakes here. Also, this is NOT the fight I have written for them. Though there were some guesses that the dinner thing would lead to the fight, this was more a big cluster of misunderstanding. The fight is a real fight where they say all of the horrible ugly things that you don't mean and then wish you could take back the second they're out of your mouth. I might put it up right after the 52 Pickup chapter. So perhaps sometime late next week._

_**The Hours**__: I've decided to change the timing on that story. We're still early November in Girl, and I'd like to start The Hours by like the 2__nd__ week in December (rather than the initial posting of first week in January). This will enable me to get them together much more quickly. I've said writing a prequel is not recommended. Trust me, I want to put them together now as much as you people want me to put them together - I just can't! It would completely destroy the underlying theme of The Hours, which was that time was short and you can't waste it. _

_But the bonus in moving things up, beyond putting us all out of our misery, is that means I'll be writing Christmas/holiday chapters with H/P coupled up. And those will be all NEW additions to that story! I am planning on writing a bunch of new stuff to insert around the chapters that are already there. So don't panic, I'm not deleting anything. If 'whatever' chapter is your favorite, it will still be there when it goes back up. I'll just be making the preexisting ones better and adding in more items to flesh out their activities over those few months. Though it will go up from the 65 chapters it is now, don't expect another 140 chapter story, maybe 80._

_I'd love to work this real time but I'm not sure if I'll get their lives up to that point in a month unless I focus on nothing BUT Girl for the rest of November. My brain goes where it goes so that seems unlikely, but I can at least make it a priority. Fortunately pretty much everything else I'm planning on putting up is typed up in draft. They just need to be cleaned up and that takes less time. I can tell you definitively that I have 16 chapters left and that will wrap this puppy. We'll see if I can work that many over the next 5 weeks. I'll start a countdown when I'm sure we're at 5 chapters :)_

_I think I'm once again at a point where I can post preview titles, so here you go :)_

_Next: __**"A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words"**_


	121. Every Picture Tells A Story

**Author's Note**: The site somehow, can't figure it, wiped my A/N. That's very strange because really, how would it know what was story and what wasn't? Weird.

Anyway, I'm reposting this to see if it puts it back. And I'll tell you, these site issues are KILLING me for feedback! **So, if you come back and drop me a line on this one when the site lets you, then I promise I will put up the 52 pickup chapter up Monday night. I cleaned it up today, it's good to go.**

The site is being very annoying this weekend. There are no 'alerts' of any kind going out. So if you're thinking it's just you, it's not. I haven't even received the email yet from MYSELF, telling myself that I posted on Communication Breakdown. And I wrote back to a ton of people yesterday but I don't know if you got those responses yet because I know there are some reviews on CB, but I haven't gotten notified of those via email either. I just happened to notice the review count went up on the story. So, if you get something from me like a week from now, I sent it 24 hrs ago :) But basically the login feature is only going down for like 10 minutes at a time, so if you try and do something, like review - hint ;) it will work, just probably a few minutes after your first attempt.

This is a short observational piece told in narrative from Morgan's POV. Just a random dinner, the circumstances don't matter.

* * *

**Prompt Set #1**

Show: Reba

Title Challenge: Every Picture Tells a Story

* * *

_Early November: Thursday_

**Every Picture Tells a Story**

Derek watched them out of the corner of his eye.

Emily stole a bite of Hotch's garlic potatoes . . . and though she didn't say it out loud . . . Derek could see that she liked them better than her rice pilaf. And the reason that he knew that she liked Hotch's dinner better than her own was, her lower lip popped out for just a split second.

It happened so quickly that if Morgan hadn't been looking right at her when it happened, then he would have thought it was imagination.

Because really, if somebody had told him that Emily Prentiss . . . a woman who was so tough that she had once pinned HIM to the mat in thirty-seven seconds . . . had just POUTED because she was unhappy, there's no way that Morgan would have believed that story.

But Derek had seen it, and he knew that Hotch had too. Because his boss' countenance softened and then he picked up his plate and gave her half of his potatoes and he took back half of her rice.

Emily didn't ask for it. She didn't even verbally acknowledge that he had done it.

What she did do . . . Derek saw as he shifted back slightly in his chair . . . was lean over and squeeze Hotch's knee. And then Hotch covered her hand with his and squeezed back.

He left his hand there for almost a minute. And Derek could tell that when he did remove it, it was done reluctantly.

Both of their actions were taken under the table while they were immersed in their conversations with Dave and Jordan sitting respectively on either side of them.

Huh.

Derek knew that they had grown close. He'd even joked in the past about them getting married one weekend and not telling anyone.

That was just a joke though. But now he could see that the joke was on him. He'd really just thought they were friends and that was it.

If anything, Derek had been relieved to see that friendship develop.

Em, as sociable as she could be, Morgan had always sensed that she was a bit lonely. Like him, she was hitting forty. But unlike him, he knew that Emily was ready to have a family.

But that clock was beginning to wind down.

It had bothered Derek to see time slipping away from her, knowing that all she wanted was just to find a nice guy to settle down with and maybe have a couple kids.

That wasn't too much to ask for such a great girl.

And Hotch, Christ, a book could be written on his emotional maladies. He'd been a mess after Haley left him. And his problems had clearly continued not only through the separation, but after the divorce as well. For twenty years he'd lived his life one way, and for the past eighteen months he'd been getting used to living his life another way.

That had obviously been a hard adjustment for him.

The bottom line was that Hotch and Emily, in different ways, had always been lonely people. And now loneliness didn't seem to be the overriding emotion that Derek picked up from them anymore.

Since the summer both of them had seemed a bit more content. Derek had contributed that change to the time they'd begun spending together. It had become clear to him after that fiasco involving the party he and Garcia had thrown back in August, that Hotch and Em had developed a close bond.

And Hotch's extreme reaction to the inadvertent snub of Emily had proven to Derek just how intense their personal loyalties to one another had become.

By all accounts though, only good things had come from that bond.

Now that Hotch had somebody he confided in regularly, he'd become less . . . intense. Not that he was jovial or outgoing or anything so obvious that his change in personality was apparent to the world.

But he didn't seem quite so sad all the time. And that was something.

And Emily . . . well, she actually seemed happy.

All along Morgan thought that those changes could be contributed simply to their friendship. He was convinced that was all that was going on between the two of them. But after what had just happened, he was rapidly reassessing that conclusion.

Hotch gave her half his dinner . . . in Morgan's mind . . . that was HUGE!

Derek loved Emily probably as much as he did his own sisters, but she wasn't getting any of his damn dinner! Even his baby girl had gotten her hand slapped away from his calamari when she tried to take more than allowed. Like he'd told her, "I said one bite to taste girl, if you _wanted_ this meal then you should have _ordered_ this meal."

That was the rule at the dinner table. You ordered what YOU wanted to eat.

But Hotch very specifically had ordered steak and garlic potatoes while Emily chose to get stuffed chicken and rice pilaf. And then he had given her half of his food simply because she was unhappy.

Unhappy over something Emily herself would say was truly inconsequential. Yet still Hotch had taken immediate steps to rectify the situation.

That was, to borrow a term from their line of work, an, 'escalation,' in personal affection. You did something like that for your wife, or your girlfriend, not your friend, and certainly not a simple colleague.

Things had clearly changed between them much more than Derek had previously realized.

//////////

As the meal progressed and the bill arrived, Hotch pulled out his wallet and Derek saw a snapshot slide out of the fold. His brow wrinkled as his boss snatched it back off the table, all the while shooting a nervous glance over to Emily who was still talking to Jordan.

As fast as Hotch had been, Derek had still seen the picture as clear as day. It was Emily and Hotch's son, Jack, playing in the park. They were both laughing as Emily held the little boy in her lap and they threw food to the ducks.

The fact that Emily was that close to Hotch's son was news to Morgan. But that wasn't what really raised his eyebrow.

Now clearly Emily had to know that Hotch _had_ the picture. After all she was five feet away when it was taken. But it was obvious from Hotch's worried look that he didn't want Emily to see that he _carried_ the picture around with him.

That meant . . . escalation or not . . . they definitely _weren't_ sleeping together.

One thing Morgan knew for sure, you don't hide pictures _of_ your lover, _from _your lover.

Derek dug out his own wallet and began counting out bills with an absurd sense of satisfaction . . . he had figured out that the boss man had a secret!

_Hotch was in love with Emily!!_

Figuring that one out was actually a real coup. Hotch was usually so stoic he was nearly impossible to read.

Especially when it came to personal stuff.

But now Derek was positive . . . he had feelings for Emily. One sided or not, Derek wasn't sure. That would have to be a factoid collected on another day.

Though . . . he looked over at Emily's eyes shining in pride and amusement as Hotch challenged Reid's mathematical deductions on the tip.

And that's when Derek realized that perhaps those feelings weren't one sided.

After Spencer rechecked his math and started to sputter and turn pink . . . he had been so sure of himself . . . Emily laughed and squeezed Hotch's shoulder. Then she whispered something in his ear that made Hotch's elusive dimples appear.

Morgan's lip quirked up . . . oh yeah, whatever was going on here was definitely mutual.

He tossed down two twenties on the table . . . now Derek wondered how long it would take the two of them to figure it out.

* * *

_A/N 2: In The Hours there's an observational chapter from Derek's POV where he's trying to figure out if they're "doing it." But there was nothing in that one that precluded Derek figuring out earlier that they had feelings. And the man's not an idiot. He just needed the right circumstances for things to click into place for him. And obviously Morgan has some pretty strong feelings about sharing his food. In his mind, THAT'S love :) _

_We are honest to God seriously winding down folks. It's a little scary, and kind of sad, and it hasn't quite sunk in yet. But I haven't written any chapters for this, all I'm doing now is cleaning up drafts that are already prepped. I'm not planning on adding any new plot points beyond what's already on my table o'contents (which is 6 pages alone). We've got the long awaited (and hopefully you won't be disappointed) 52 Pickup Chapter going up next. And then I THINK I'm going to do the big team dynamic story arc right after that. I actually will need to write a couple new companion chapters for that one but I need to look at the initial two that are already done to see what else needs to be fleshed out in the follow up. But I think we might actually get two more chapters up this week! We could seriously be done with Girl by the beginning of December. I'd invite you all over for a party to celebrate but the cost of the airfare alone would probably bankrupt me for life!_

_Next: __**Let Emily Be Emily (52 Pickup)**_


	122. Let Emily Be Emily

**Author's Note**: Thanks everyone for popping back around to drop a line. So I'm keeping my end of the deal and posting back to back. I don't think I've done that since the spring.

Again, this is the 52 Pickup chapter. If you're not uber H/P, the reminder would be the two of them in the locker room. It would probably be helpful if this ep was fresh in your head as you read because I really did just concentrate on working around what we saw onscreen. For subtext alone, there was so much to read into what was going on there and I didn't want to mess with what we could see. So, rather than doing totally missing scenes, I worked internal dialogue and extended out the scenes that we did see to include what came after. I wanted it to be more 'plausible'. Hopefully you won't be disappointed :)

* * *

_Episode – 52 Pickup_

_Early November: Friday_

**Let Emily Be Emily**

"Oh the things I could make you do," Viper sneered.

As Emily nearly gagged in disgust at that pronouncement, Hotch suddenly had an image in his mind of him breaking 'Viper's' face against the cement floor and crushing his spine in the process.

It was hard, but somehow he resisted the urge to turn that dream into a reality. But he also figured that he should get them out of there before he decided that the mental 'crunch' wasn't quite as satisfying as the real one would be.

So he handed his card to the potential UNSUB that Emily had dubbed 'space cowboy.' And after shooting him Glare 2, the '_I'm watching you, you piece of shit_' look . . . he turned to go.

Emily broke her own eye contact with Viper a split second later and Hotch slowed his stride to make sure that she left with him. Though he had specifically made the move to leave before she did, he still didn't want to actually leave her behind.

The most important thing though was to make sure that Viper didn't get the impression that Emily needed to be protected by the men. Hotch was NOT going to let her look weak in front of a possible UNSUB that had just taken an interest in her.

That could end in tragedy.

And by tragedy Hotch meant, Viper came after her, Hotch killed him through some sort of unsanctioned 'drawn and quartered via Chevy hatchback' method and then spent the next thirty years in prison separated from Emily and Jack.

As they walked away he could feel the waves of loathing coming off of Emily before she muttered angrily, "_please_ tell me we are not giving up on that guy."

God, what a DOUCHEBAG! She'd only been talking to him for two minutes and she wanted to go take a shower!

Hotch's jaw twitched, "we're just getting started."

Let's see, that scumbag basically said that he'd like to sexually assault the woman he loved. What were the odds he was letting _that_ one go?

As they walked along Hotch resisted the urge to run his hand down Emily's back. If only to metaphorically wipe off some of the slime she just got doused with.

But Derek was coming up right behind them.

And Hotch . . . though tactile with her in their personal time . . . was careful to keep his hands to himself in front of the others when they were on duty. He was her supervisor and though it was just Derek, he didn't want anybody to get the wrong idea.

Not that there was an idea to get.

Not yet anyway.

Just because he no longer considered any day complete until he'd seen her smile or heard her laugh, well, that was his problem. And certainly not one that he wanted to impact her professional standing in the office. He'd figure this out eventually. Hopefully before she met some nice guy from Poughkeepsie and settled down with three or four kids.

He inhaled the scent of her shampoo as he let her pass through the door in front of him.

Yes . . . he sighed . . . hopefully before that happened.

Emily was fuming as they walked out. All she wanted to do was knee that creep in the face. And then . . . her fingers curled into a fist . . . grind her boot into the bloody mess that was left.

But then Hotch gave her a little smile as he held the door open for her, and she felt her own countenance softening in response.

The man in black was definitely good for her stress levels . . . and then when he winked at her . . . the anger suddenly faded away.

He was right . . . that asshole wasn't worth it.

Besides . . . she heard Morgan coming out the door behind them . . . being pissed wasn't going to help them solve this case.

She needed to think rationally.

So Emily tried to step back from her personal disgust and focus on what they had actually just witnessed inside. As she ran through the conversation again her lips began to twitch. And then she looked at Hotch over the hood of the SUV, "plugs or a piece?"

Hotch was just pulling the keys out of his pocket and he looked up at her with a definitive nod, "plugs, absolutely."

And BAD plugs at that! How this scumbag was picking up ANY women was beyond Hotch's comprehension.

With a scowl, Derek shook his head as he climbed into the backseat, "see now YOU two are why I shave my head!"

Hotch's mouth twitched as Emily turned around to look at Morgan incredulously over the back seat.

"Morgan, you still have ALL of your hair! You shave it because . . ." she lowered her voice to her best Derek impression, while she raised her fingers in mocking quotes, "'the ladies think it's hot!'"

As he caught Derek's apoplectic response in the rearview mirror, Hotch had to bite the inside of his cheek as he started the engine.

Derek began to sputter furiously, "_that_ is NOT the point Emily! Male pattern baldness runs in my family. And God forbid I decide to take advantage of some of the scientific advances made in the field of hair loss," he waved his hand in disgust between the two of them, "you two, would be whispering about me behind my back."

There was a time when the idea of Hotch whispering about anyone would have been ludicrous. But since he'd started hanging out with Emily he was almost as bad as she was with the wise remarks.

Emily rolled her eyes as she turned back around, "don't be ridiculous Morgan," she clicked her seatbelt and settled back against her seat, "we'd never talk about you behind your back."

Derek started to relax until Emily decided to finish her thought, "we'd certainly give you the courtesy of saying it to your face. Just like we did when you decided to wear that purple silk v-neck," she smacked Hotch's arm with her hand as she barked a laugh, "remember that shirt Hotch? You said he looked like one of the Bee Gees!"

Choosing to consider Emily's question rhetorical, Hotch still had to clear his throat to keep from laughing openly after he caught Derek's expression in the rearview mirror.

Morgan muttered, "I think I liked you two better when you hated each other."

When he'd realized the other day that these two were in love, he'd thought that was a good thing. They made a nice couple. But he hadn't considered the drawbacks.

Tag teaming to ride his ass being the biggest one.

Both of his car mates let out overlapping, indignant, "WE NEVER _HATED_ EACH OTHER!"

Emily huffed, "we just had a few 'misunderstandings' in the beginning." She smiled over at Hotch, "we worked them out."

If only she and Hotch could have made up back in the early days the way they did now. But alas, he was married back then so it would have been kind of inappropriate to cuddle on the couch and eat pizza and drink beer.

Yeah . . . she snorted to herself . . . Haley probably would have had a seriously problem with that.

Hotch's eyes crinkled in response as he turned out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.

"Yes, we did."

And if he could ever grow a pair then they might do quite a bit more than that.

/////////

Hotch headed down to the sublevel. He'd seen the look Emily had given him when he'd given his tacit approval for this plan to go forward.

She wasn't happy.

So he figured that he'd better check now to make sure that she wasn't going to cut his brake lines later.

Also, he really wasn't all that keen on sending her out as bait for a potential serial killer who had already been eying her like a piece of meat on a hook. So he was kind of hoping that she'd tell him that she didn't want to go. Even if Viper _wasn't_ the UNSUB, the thought of that asshole laying a finger on her was enough to make Hotch feel slightly queasy.

But this _was_ her job. And he was going to have to respect that and let her do it.

Well, provided that was she was really comfortable with this plan of course. There was always another way and he would find that way if she wasn't happy with this one.

Please God . . . he prayed to the man upstairs . . . don't let her be happy with this one.

Before he entered the women's locker room Hotch paused to knock on the door, only entering after she said it was okay.

Oh . . . she'd curled her hair. She was so beautiful when she curled her hair.

_Focus Aaron! You came down here for a reason and it wasn't to ogle._

So he refocused as he came directly to the point of his visit, "you're okay with this right?"

'_Please say no and then I won't have to feel like a completely sexist pig for not wanting you to go on this assignment!'_

Emily smiled over at him. She could see that Hotch was worried about her but he wouldn't say it for fear of pissing her off.

They both knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. And she certainly wasn't planning on leaving the club with Viper so everything would be fine.

But he was a sweetheart for worrying though.

So she'd tried to put him at ease by joking that she'd dated worse than Viper. And she could tell by his amused "wow" that he had forgotten just how lousy her taste in men had been over the years.

Well . . . she eyed him . . . previous years anyway.

As he suddenly fell silent she thought back over the strained conversation that she'd observed between him and Todd earlier. And she figured that might have something to do with the look on his face now so she decided to just flat out ask him.

"Is something going on with Jordan?"

As Hotch began explaining what had happened earlier, Emily could tell that he was pretty upset with her. It was also obvious that it had been weighing on him all day.

She huffed to herself, _'when would he learn to just come to her right away when he was upset about something?'_

Though given what he said, Emily was starting to get kind of upset with Jordan too...

Who taught her it was okay to lie to the victims?! Those poor people had already been victimized once. Deceiving them to get information was just another violation.

That was just . . . sleazy.

But . . . Emily tried to calm down . . . Jordan was assigned to them for another four months. And if she was a complete screw up then they needed to know that sooner than later before she had the opportunity to seriously F something up.

The bottom line was that for better or worse, Jordan Todd was the new face of their team. That said, if she ended up destroying the reputation that Hotch had worked so hard to cultivate over the years then Emily was going to be left with no choice but to actually kill her and dump her body in Shenandoah National Park.

But Emily didn't want to plant that seed in Hotch's brain right now though. So she took a softer approach. Of course that was _after_ she blew off his lame joke about her doing okay under his scrutiny.

As if he could compare the two of them? Please!

So rather than freaking him out by giving him something else to worry about . . . Jordan being a possible agent of the devil brought here to destroy all that they held dear . . . Emily took the tactic of appealing to Hotch's logic.

It was always the best approach with him.

She pointed out that they needed to give Jordan the opportunity to prove herself or they'd never know what she could do. Emily could tell as he looked down and then back up to her that he was genuinely considering her point.

Hotch realized that Emily was right about maybe lengthening the leash on Jordan. So he looked back over at her and asked, "you have something in mind?"

She smiled, "let her come with me tonight."

Of course he started shaking his head immediately and Emily could see that he was about to break out a resounding, "NO!"

So she walked right up to him and pulled out the big gun, "Aaron, please."

She hardly ever called him Aaron on duty, but she really thought this was important. Jordan could either hack it or she couldn't. And they needed to know the answer to that question now. This was only her first case. If it also needed to be her _last_ case then they could have somebody else lined up by the time they got home. God knew that Hotch didn't need the added stress of micromanaging somebody who was _supposedly _more than qualified to be filling JJ's shoes while she was out.

Emily was making this plea this for his sake solely, not Jordan's.

She seemed like an okay person, but aside from what Hotch had just told her, Emily had been pretty nonplussed at the emotional outbursts she'd witnessed. You want to be respected in this job, _especially_ as a woman, you can't behave like a clichéd hysterical female who snaps at people without provocation.

It was embarrassing. And it hurt the rest of the women at the bureau.

Emily had busted her ass to be respected in her position and she didn't need to be associated with somebody who was going to drag her down simply by gender association.

At that thought, Emily suddenly felt a pang for JJ. She'd known it was going to be hard without her, but she'd really hoped that her temporary replacement would at least make her absence easier to bear, _not_ harder.

Obviously that was a foolish wish.

Hotch looked intently down at her . . . she'd called him 'Aaron.' Huh, apparently she was really serious about this. But he was already uncomfortable sending her out to meet Viper, and he liked the idea even less if the plan included sending her out with unproven backup.

Unproven backup for whom he already held a personal dislike.

But . . . he rubbed his hand across his mouth . . . he trusted Emily. And if she was okay with taking Jordan out to watch her back then he was going to have to get on board with it too.

He did acknowledge that a large percentage of his concern was personal rather than professional. And he was going to have to disregard the personal if he didn't want to damage their working relationship.

Or God forbid . . . damage their personal relationship.

It would be one thing if Jordan had done something procedurally wrong in the field that had endangered somebody else's life. But she hadn't done anything like that.

It was just a judgment call.

Granted, she had already demonstrated POOR judgment, but as far as her credentials went, she was supposed to be a very competent agent.

Therefore . . . his jaw twitched slightly . . . her assistance to Emily tonight SHOULD go without incident.

And if it didn't, well, he'd have Jordan shipped off to the Ozarks and he'd make Reid the new face of the BAU. He could dazzle the reporters with 'physics magic.'

Yeah, that'd keep the questions to a minimum.

Decision made, Hotch sighed reluctantly, "okay."

Her eyes crinkled, "thank you."

Again, her relief was only for resolving this in his favor, not in Jordan's.

Professional concerns now addressed Hotch lowered his voice as he took a step closer and downshifted to their personal relationship, "you look very pretty."

She blushed, "thanks. My eye makeup is a little heavier than I'd normally wear, but," she shrugged, "I'm _trying_ to get the attention of a creepy scumbag so I figured, eh."

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly at her insecurity . . . as though she could ever be anything less than beautiful.

But as they were still on duty so he thought it best not to express that thought out loud at the moment. Instead he turned his attention to her chosen outfit for the evening.

An outfit that was hanging in the locker a few feet away.

"Where did you get the dress?" He raised an amused eyebrow, "I'm pretty sure that you didn't have one packed in your go bag."

Emily joked, "pfft, shows what you know. I usually travel with a full length ball gown."

He snorted as she turned back to take the dress off the hook, "but I forgot it so I had to run out and buy a new one." She held it up in front of her with a flourish, "you like?"

She liked it. It was practical and she could wear it again.

Hotch's eyes dropped down . . . short skirt . . . yeah, he liked it very much.

He nodded his approval, "I do," then he quirked up an eyebrow, "how much did it cost? I need to know now for when I get called down to Strauss' office to discuss your expense report."

Emily pursed her lips in amusement as she fingered the material, "actually, SIR," she shot him a look, "there's a Women in Law Enforcement holiday party in a few weeks and I needed a dress for that anyway so I was just planning on paying for it out of my own pocket." She looked over with mock sadness, "that is of course if I can get a date," she hung the dress back up and eyed him as she picked up her brush and started fussing with a snarl in her curls, "now you wouldn't happen to know anyone who was free to take me to a cocktail party, AND save the government a few bucks in the process, would you?"

Hotch's features softened as he moved behind her to gently work out the knot. As she lifted her hair to help him get at the tangle, he whispered in her ear, "I might be free," and when he felt her shiver he continued in the same intimate tone as he gently ran his fingers through her strands, smoothing them out, "and you know anything I can do to help with the budget deficit."

As she started to laugh, he couldn't hide the appearance of his dimples . . . he did love to make her laugh.

She smacked his arm, "go away now, I need to change and you're not getting a free show." He shook his head at her as he left the locker room. And then he heard her yelling after him down the hall.

"Don't forget to tell Jordan!"

Hotch rolled his eyes, 'SHE probably did have a cocktail dress packed in her bag.'

Turned out she did. And as Jordan ran back to the hotel to get it Hotch really wished he'd made a bet with Emily on that one.

He could have had free coffee for a week.

* * *

_A/N 2: I hate Jordan. For all of the reasons that Emily outlined above and more. I thought she was unprofessional and she just made women look in their position look bad. I pretty much hated her from the moment that she got pissy with Morgan and then went busted into Hotch's office and asked if he was her boss. I was flabbergasted. It was SO unprofessional! It was like something a teenage girl would do. And I thought it was crap that somehow it was just the stress of the job that made her act out. That it proved it 'wasn't for everyone.' Bullshit. She clamored to get an elite position on a team that chases serial killers. Serial killers! She didn't think the work would be 'upsetting'?! And she was coming from like Anti Terrorism! She wasn't some chick they pulled out of the secretarial pool. She was a trained government agent! There was NO excuse for her behavior. So yeah, if I haven't yet made it clear, I detested her character and couldn't have been happier when she left. If you were a fan, we're just going to have to agree to disagree here. We haven't had to do that since back in the days of Gideon :) Fortunately, this story goes totally AU long before she started really pissing me off snapping at Emily and then lecturing Hotch about how he should appreciate JJ. Like she'd ever seen them interact together. Sorry, yeah, she's fictional, she's gone from the show and I still rant and rave every time I think about her. Yes, my anger is irrational, I know. Just be happy you all weren't Arcadya. She got essays on all my issues with Jordan :)_

_Moving on, this is probably the last time Jordan will even have any prominence in a chapter anyway so it doesn't matter. Now I think I'm going to put the Brothers in Arms chapter up next and then it'll be all downhill with just my AU stuff getting them closer and closer together through the end of the month. _

_And The Hours really truly is coming down tomorrow night. With the site being all screwed up this weekend I left it alone. And then when I went to take it down today I noticed people were actually reading it and I didn't want to be a jerk and like delete it mid chapter on anyone! But really, tomorrow for real. _

_They will be attending the holiday party that Emily mentions here. That's already written._

_Sometime this week I'll get up the next Communication, otherwise, the next Girl probably won't be until the weekend._

_Next: "__**Fear of Flight**__"_


	123. Great Falls

**Author's Note**: For those of you that saw tonight's ep, sorry that I don't have anything fluffier to put up. But this is what's next in the lineup. This is not the chapter I said I was going to put up next though, but I actually decided not to include that one in this story at all. It'll probably turn up either as a totally independent one shot (outside of the Girl'verse) OR, it will be inserted into Second Chances. Yes, I do acknowledge that story still exists :) I'm thinking that once I get Girl wrapped (which is fast approaching) that's when my brain will properly move on to finishing up the spinoffs. It's just so hard juggling multiple BIG stories. I've discovered that one big and a couple little ones are really the best way to go. But I discovered that WAY too late :) But just think, me biting off way more than I could chew means that some incarnation of Girl could go on for decades!

I've mentioned the existence of this chapter before. It's MY big dramatic shift to the team dynamic. This is the beginning of a story arc that's pretty much going to run parallel through the tying up of all loose ends in Girl moving into The Hours. More at the end.

**Please head the warning here that this is an UGLY chapter**! Upsetting imagery (seriously, there are a couple of messed up things in here - I'm a little disturbed at how disturbed my brain is) and lots of bad language. That said, I hope you enjoy it :)

As you'll see, we're walking into the middle of a scene. But you will find out how we got there soon enough.

More on the title at the end too.

My apologies now for any possible typos. This bad boy is 12,000 words and the longer they are, the more likely I am to miss something. But, whether or not you realize it, I always go back now and read the online version and clean things up a day or so later. So if there's anything egregious it'll be gone by Saturday :)

* * *

_Mid November: Wednesday_

**Great Falls**

Emily moved her head slightly just as the gunshot echoed across the valley. And then Hotch was half running, half sliding down the snow covered hill to get to her. All he could see in the gathering twilight was red splattered over the white of the snow and two bodies on the ground.

One of them was missing a head.

PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD

Over and over he prayed as he ran towards her.

Morgan and Rossi were fast coming up the rear and the local P.D. filled in the gaps around them. Hotch arrived first just as Emily was trying to push herself up off the ground.

Skidding to a stop, he dropped to his knees and began frantically trying to wipe away the blood and gore she was caked with.

The UNSUB's head had exploded like a grenade.

He grabbed her shoulders as he shouted frantically, "EMILY, ARE YOU HURT?!"

There was a slight note of hysteria to his voice that he tried to get back under control. But he wasn't too worried about it. After all, for a moment he'd feared that she'd had her head blown off by a sniper's errant shot.

A little hysteria had most definitely been in order.

Slightly dazed from the shock of what had just happened, Emily looked over at Hotch and blinked for a moment.

Then his question permeated her brain . . . are you hurt . . . and she slowly shook her head, "no. No, I'm not hurt, just . . ."

She was interrupted when Morgan pounded up. His breath was ragged as he looked down at her in horror, "God Em, are you . . ."

His voice faded away as he saw the look on Hotch's face.

'_Oh shit.'_

Hotch's look was lethal as he growled at Derek, "leave . . . now."

He'd already given Morgan ten seconds to see for himself that Emily was alive.

It was more than he deserved.

At Hotch's contemptuous dismissal, Derek flinched as though he'd been slapped across the face. They'd had their issues over the years but Hotch had never spoken to him like that before.

But of course he'd never fucked up this badly before.

His eyes began to burn . . . he'd almost gotten Emily killed. And he knew better than to test Hotch's patience right then, but before he left he had to try to apologize to her. So he shifted his gaze to the woman he thought of as a sister as he croaked out a husky, "I'm so sorry Emily."

But to his dismay, she said nothing in return. She just looked at him as she wiped away a trickle of blood that was running towards her eye. Then she gave a curt nod before she turned back to Hotch.

That was it.

She'd dismissed him without so much as a word.

After staring at the couple on the ground for a moment . . . pathetically hoping that one of them would say something that would make him feel better . . . Morgan turned and slowly walked back out to the perimeter.

As Dave watched him go by, Derek flinched again as he saw him shake his head in disgust.

Dear God . . . Derek moaned to himself . . . what have I done?

Hotch looked after Derek with a cold fury . . . he wasn't anywhere near done with him. But that could wait . . . he turned to face the woman at his side once more . . . Emily was his concern right now.

As Hotch looked at her grotesquely doused with blood and brain matter, a single thought slammed into his heart . . . he'd almost lost her today. And he was no longer sure if he was capable of doing this job without her. Hell, he was no longer sure he was even capable of LIVING without her.

So what would he have really done to Derek if she'd been killed?

His stomach twisted at the images that bombarded him . . . he definitely wasn't prepared to answer that question right now.

Emily gave Hotch a grim smile, "that was close."

Thirteen years on the job, that was as close as she'd ever come to the Pearly Gates. It was not an experience that she wished to repeat for another forty or fifty years. And ideally, on her last day on the planet, at eighty something years old, there would be no gunplay.

After swallowing over the lump in his throat, Hotch nodded as he said tersely, "too close," and then, without any regard for the filth covering her, he put his hands out and pulled her up off the ground with him.

They stared at each other for a moment . . . an entire conversation taking place without words. And as much as Hotch wanted to pull her into his arms, that absolutely could _not_ be done in the middle of the crime scene.

It would have to wait until they were alone.

So for the moment, he just clutched her hand tightly in his as they walked slowly across the field, heading down to the driveway in front of the now ownerless cabin.

As they walked along both Emily and Hotch became lost in their own thoughts on how this horrible moment had come to be.

They'd arrived in Great Falls, Montana three days earlier. There had been three child abductions over as many months, no bodies recovered. The children just vanished. And three apparent stranger kidnappings were unheard of in that area.

That was the same number of children that had gone missing over the prior two decades.

The police chief had immediately recognized that they were in over their heads and had contacted the BAU within an hour of the 911 call on the third child. Hotch had them wheels up less than an hour after that.

The investigation proceeded quickly.

By the end of the first day they found a pattern to the victimology that matched a string of abductions in Idaho seven years earlier. That case hadn't been solved either, but by day two, Garcia had combed over the list of suspects in the Idaho case and found a name that one of the local detectives in Great Falls had recognized.

Lee Henry Jones.

His tags had been taken down in a routine lockdown after the site of the second abduction. There had been a cursory examination of his truck, but nothing unusual had turned up on him at the time. Jones had no record and no history with the local authorities. So there was nothing to draw any more attention to him than any of the other two dozen people who coincidentally were driving in the area when that second child, Katie Wells, had been taken from the playground across the street from her house.

He was a single white male, and they were a dime a dozen in Montana.

But finally they had one connection so they began digging for more.

Jones had been a person of interest in disappearances of young girls in five jurisdictions. Each time he had pulled up roots shortly after his name surfaced. And there was never anything more concrete than vague circumstantial evidence to connect him with any of the victims. And none of the girls had ever been found so there were no bodies or dump sites to comb for physical evidence.

But now the full resources of the BAU, and by extension the federal government and Penelope Garcia, were being focused on Lee Henry Jones.

If there was something there, they knew that they'd find it.

Emily and Derek had been driving back from a follow-up interview with Katie Wells' parents when they got the call from Hotch that Garcia had found a property listing for Jones in a rural area about thirty miles outside of the city. They had enough circumstantial evidence for a warrant and were taking him that night before he disappeared again. Morgan told Hotch that they were already halfway there, should they just proceed straight to the site or return to the station.

Hotch had hesitated for a moment, and then decided to let them go.

A decision he would later view as one of his biggest regrets.

But these were his two most capable agents and he had trusted them to be smart. They were told to locate the property, do a quick reconnaissance sweep, and then pull back and wait for reinforcements to arrive.

Simple.

And initially, all went according to plan. They did the sweep. It was a slightly dilapidated two story cabin with one rusty pickup out front and one rusty pickup out back.

There was some movement visible behind the curtains.

They checked in with Hotch, what should they do? He told them that they were less than fifteen minutes out, and they were to hold. And with thoughts of Tobias Hinkle always fresh in his head in these situations, he added firmly, "stick together." And then he had signed off as he put his foot a little harder down on the accelerator.

At the time he didn't know why, but he was getting a bad feeling.

And back in the woods Emily was getting a bad feeling too. A few more minutes passed and then the front door of the cabin opened. A middle aged Caucasian male exited and headed around to the pickup truck out back. Emily and Derek both froze up when they saw what he was carrying.

A small bundle wrapped in plastic sheeting.

And that's when things fell apart.

Derek was sure it was Jones and that he had one of the children. Emily said that they weren't close enough to make a positive ID, or even a half-assed ID. They'd checked their handhelds, but besides the distance, the driver's license photo obviously didn't include a scarf and a watch cap. Also, she'd argued fruitlessly, even if that was one of the missing children, it was unlikely that she was still alive.

They should hold.

But Morgan was positive that it _was_ Jones, and that it _was_ a child in the plastic sheeting. Possibly the youngest daughter of the couple that they had just left crying in their living room.

So he wouldn't listen to anything Emily had to say to the contrary. He told her that she should stay put and keep watching the cabin. And that he'd run back down through the woods to the access road and intercept the pickup when it came around the turn.

If it was Lucas with one of the children . . . and Morgan was so positive that it was . . . he'd have him in custody. And if it wasn't him, Morgan would head back up the hill immediately.

"Five minutes," he said, "that's all it would take to be sure."

But Emily thought his logic was shit. Two pickup trucks, one visible white male, and some plastic sheeting did not add up to anything approaching a logical reason to split up. So she'd been shaking her head vehemently as he laid out his plan. And as he'd started to run away, she'd whispered frantically for him to come back. But all she heard in return was a hushed, "five minutes Em."

And then he was gone into the pines.

She cursed him . . . and then, once she was all alone . . . Emily tried to keep a 360 degree watch on her position and the still unsecured cabin.

Less than three minutes after Derek left her she heard a twig break to her left, and then one immediately behind her. The one to her left was a fox running through the underbrush.

The one behind her was Lee Henry Jones brandishing a shotgun at her head.

Her jaw clenched, Emily had dropped her weapon and cursed Morgan again. Then she was frog marched down the small hill to the cabin.

Jones had shoved her inside and stood with her in the mud room for at least a minute, maybe longer, just staring at her. She was wearing her FBI windbreaker and he was transfixed by the bright yellow letters.

It had become immediately clear to her that he hadn't been expecting the police. And once he had her, he didn't know what to do with her.

Finally he decided something that he didn't share aloud, but Emily didn't like the look that came into his eyes. She had been quiet up to that point, but suddenly she saw the sand start to run out of the hourglass.

And she opened her mouth to speak just as he'd shoved her through the entrance to the next room.

Even as she thought back, she still wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, but either way it had left her when she'd tripped over a chair leg just inside the door. She fell to the ground, landing on top of what she'd initially thought was a large doll that had been knocked off the seat.

Emily wasn't sure who screamed louder.

Her when she realized the "doll" that had broken her fall was actually the stuffed corpse of six year old Katie Wells . . . or Jones himself when he saw that one of Katie's fingers had snapped off when her desiccated body had hit the ground.

Fortunately for Emily, the fight or flight instinct kicked in as soon as she realized the true horror of what had happened in that place. The shot of adrenaline that went through her body cleared all other thoughts from her mind.

**RUN!!!!**

That's all she could think . . . RUN!!!

So during Jones' split second distraction, she pushed herself up and started scrambling towards the open doorway. Once she got back to the mud room she headed full tilt for the back door.

She made it a whole ten feet into the side yard, but she had heard him closing behind her. And then he'd grabbed her arm and put a hunting knife to her throat.

All she could think as the blade touched her skin was, 'Hotch get me out of this,' and then Jones' brains were raining down on her.

Hotch might have prayed to God for help, Emily just prayed to God for Hotch.

And today . . . she ran her thumb over the back of Hotch's hand . . . her prayer had been answered.

/////////

Reid was just pulling up in one of the Suburbans when he saw Hotch and Emily stepping off the snowy field and onto the driveway in front of the house.

OH THANK GOD!

He'd heard everything on the radio and had been terrified that they would be too late to save her.

His hand was already yanking back the door handle before he'd even put the SUV in park. And as he jumped out, he began frantically calling, "EMILY! EMILY!" he started running towards them, "EMILY! ARE YOU OKAY?!"

And then he stopped short, his eyes widening in horror when he saw the gore covering her.

'_JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!'_

When Emily didn't answer Reid immediately, Hotch glanced over to see that she was still looking a little dazed. But that was understandable.

A bullet whizzing past your ear and then brain matter spraying down on you will throw anyone a little off her game.

So he tightened his grip on her hand as he answered for her, "it's not her blood Spencer, she's not hurt," he tipped his heard towards Emily as he continued, "help her clean up the best you can, and then find a blanket for her. She's freezing."

That wasn't a lie . . . her fingers were like icicles. But . . . though he didn't want to say it aloud . . . Hotch was also trying to ward off shock.

She was fine now, and as far as he was concerned, fine was the way she would remain. Ideally until they were both old and grey.

But that was a conversation that Hotch would have with God at a later time.

Today he was just grateful that she was still alive.

After a wide eyed Reid nodded an acknowledgement of his orders, Hotch turned to Emily and picked up her other hand. Then he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "I'll be back in a minute sweetheart. Will you be okay?"

It was imperative that Reid not hear his inquiry because essentially he was asking if she was strong enough to deal with this.

That was not a question that Hotch would ask her in front of anyone else, not even a member of the team. It showed weakness . . . vulnerability.

Those were things that could get people like them killed.

But he still needed to ask her the question. Because if she wanted him to stay, he'd stay. She didn't have to be strong in front of him.

He would take care of her . . . he squeezed her fingers . . . always.

In response to Hotch's question, Emily nodded slowly as she lightly squeezed his hands back. She didn't feel much like talking, but she was still telling him that she was all right. That he could leave. And she knew that he got the message because he gave her a faint smile as he released her from his grip.

And then she and Reid stared after their boss . . . her soul mate . . . as he stalked across the snowy field. From the floodlights they could see that he was heading towards the figure slightly in the shadows. Just out the light.

Morgan.

And though Emily had acknowledged that Derek's apology was sincere, she was still furious with him. So she wasn't going to feel any sympathy for the wrath that was about to be unleashed. He hadn't just screwed up, he'd FUCKED up royally! And she'd almost had her throat cut by a murdering pederast because of it.

Hotch could deal with it now, but later . . . her jaw twitched . . . she'd deal with Derek Morgan herself.

"Emily?"

Her reverie was broken by Reid's soft voice, "are you ready?"

She huffed humorlessly, "ready as I'll ever be."

There really wasn't a happy place she could go to right now. This clean up was just going to one more nightmare to add to the list.

For her and Reid both.

God . . . she winced internally . . . poor Spencer. What an awful assignment this was, but she knew she couldn't do it alone.

"I'm going to owe you a Big Gulp when we get home," she nervously joked to him.

When in doubt, make a stupid joke.

At her attempt at levity, Reid gave her a sad smile and squeezed her arm. He'd been on the other side of that cabin door before. And he was just glad her detention had been of a much shorter duration than his had been.

With a sigh he began looking her over again. From the moment that Hotch had given him this awful task, Reid's brain had been swirling around the problem in front of him. How best to clean her up?

No matter what he did it was going to be awful . . . for both of them . . . but he was pretty sure that he'd worked something out that would get the job done.

He guided her to the back . . . careful not to actually put his hands on her yet . . . where he opened the back hatch. And after deciding that Emily's pants were clean enough, Reid had her sit down on the ledge. Then he went around and grabbed an evidence bag and two pairs of gloves out of the case in the backseat.

The last thing he did before he returned to her was get the hand wipes from the glove compartment.

After gloving himself up, Reid took a deep breath and then began painstakingly removing every bit of bone and tissue he could see on her. Each horrible disgusting bit he picked up went straight into the evidence bag that Emily held in front of her.

He was glad to see that she was averting her eyes from the nightmarish mess contained in the clear plastic.

When he was done scooping off the gore . . . the ponytail had at least made it easier to get the worst of it out of her hair . . . he began to clean her face and her ears with the hand wipes. The box had been full when he started, but by the time he was done there wasn't a scented lemon square left in the container.

Reid squinted as he looked her over. If you weren't close enough to see the dried blood on her clothes and still staining her hair, she looked almost like normal.

Almost.

"Okay," he nodded firmly, "all done."

It was a team bonding moment that definitely wasn't covered in any of the manuals. But somehow . . . he gave her a little smile . . . they'd gotten through it.

"You did good Spencer," Dave's suddenly appeared at their side, "you did real good."

Rossi patted the younger man on the back as he simultaneously reached over to take the evidence bag from Emily's trembling fingers, "I'll take that honey," he said as he slipped it into his own hand.

"Thanks," Emily whispered as Dave disappeared around the corner of the truck for a moment.

Damn it . . . Dave cursed to himself as he walked away . . . he really wished he'd gotten back a few minutes earlier so he could have cleaned her up himself. But he'd been tied up down by the body talking to the Sheriff. Though they knew who it was, making a positive ID was going to be a bitch.

He slipped the first evidence bag into a second one and initialed it before he placed it on the floor of the front passenger side.

They were going to have to call in a forensic anthropologist to reconstruct the head just to get a dental match.

When Dave came back around he saw Reid wrapping Emily up in a blanket. His eyes crinkled slightly as he joined the two of them sitting on the ledge . . . Spencer was a good kid.

Then he noticed somebody was missing.

"Where's Hotch?"

Dave was directing his question to Emily but Reid answered with a jerk of his head, "dealing with Morgan."

Disdain dripped from his words and Rossi felt a corresponding pain in his heart.

As furious as he was with Derek . . . there was _no_ excuse for his behavior . . . this was the kind of thing that could destroy the team.

And if Reid . . . of all people . . . was this upset with Morgan, Dave couldn't even imagine how they were going to get through this without any lingering scars.

/////////

Morgan stood in the shadows watching the scene play out in front of him live as he simultaneously watched the earlier scene play out in his mind.

The visit to the parents' house, the recon with Emily . . . that horrible moment when he decided to chase the truck rather than stay with her.

What a fool he'd been.

Though he hadn't had a chance to tell anyone yet, it had turned out that he'd gone running after an innocent neighbor who had come to buy firewood from Jones.

That was Jones' supplemental income, and that's what was wrapped up in the sheeting. A stack of wood.

As soon as Derek flagged down the truck he'd felt a stab of fear as he'd clearly seen that the man wasn't their UNSUB.

And all he could think was . . . Emily.

But by the time he realized his mistake and had started running back up the hill, Emily had probably already lost her weapon.

When he got back to the place that he'd left her, he saw her pistol on the ground and he'd shoved it into his waistband. And then he'd run along the tree line and had seen her being shoved into the open door of the cabin. For a moment he'd started to run after her.

But then he'd stopped as he realized that he was about to make another very bad decision.

That's when he realized how so quickly even the best of them . . . and on any other day Derek Morgan could say with pride that he was the best at his job . . . could let a situation get completely out of control.

And Derek Morgan might have made one gigantic miscalculation that evening, but he wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't a prideful man.

He'd known then that things were past the point where he could fix them on his own.

So he'd yanked out his phone and made the hardest call he'd ever had to in his life . . . notifying Hotch that he'd lost Emily.

He said the words, and there was silence on the other end of the line. And then Derek heard a tone come back that made his blood run cold.

"You stand there and you breathe. That's it. And so help you God Morgan, this time you better do as you're told."

And then he was gone.

Rossi came back a moment later, obviously furious, but running nowhere near as hot as Hotch.

"We're five minutes out."

And then he was gone too.

Derek had stood there, nearly in shock at how fast things had completely fallen apart. And he just kept wondering how he could have been so monumentally stupid.

And he'd been angry at JJ for losing Reid! At least those two had voluntarily separated. Morgan had run off hearing Emily's hushed plea for him to come back.

In fact, his not so silent exit from the scene may very well have been what had alerted Jones to her presence. Morgan didn't know if she could forgive him.

Hell, he didn't even know if she should. He was supposed to have her back and he had failed her miserably.

And Hotch, Christ, he could very well cut him from the team. That was if he didn't honest to God kill him.

This was Emily.

Not only had Derek recently realized that he was in love with her. But Hotch had been working with her almost exclusively for months. They all still collaborated as a team, but the two of them were now clearly understood to be "partners."

Putting aside their personal feelings, in law enforcement, God help you if you're entrusted with somebody else's partner and something happens to that person and it's your fault.

You become a pariah. Nobody wants to work with you. And why would they? You've just labeled yourself a complete fuckup.

And that was a label that Derek had never once before contemplated having associated with his name.

As he'd stood there castigating himself, Derek had suddenly heard massive movement behind him. He'd whipped around to see Hotch, Rossi and a quarter of the Great Falls Police Department come running over the same hill that he had less than five minutes earlier.

And all he could think was . . . Jesus Christ! They were that close! Why hadn't he WAITED?! They could have intercepted that pickup truck on the main road.

All of it was for nothing.

Hotch had spared him one frigid glance and one frigid word, "report." And Morgan quickly tried to bring him up to speed, but stopped as they heard screams and then the side door of the cabin flew open and Emily came running out.

He and Hotch had both started to make a move to run to her, but Dave had put one hand on his arm and one on Hotch's shoulder as he'd hissed, "WAIT!"

The other two had both frozen as they saw what Dave had seen a split second before them.

It was Jones.

His run at Emily was silent, but there was a look of blinding fury on his face as he came up fast behind her.

In the next instant they'd seen the glint of a very long, very sharp knife and Hotch had screamed into his radio.

"**ANYONE WHO HAS A CLEAR HEADSHOT TAKE IT NOW!!!" **

Before they had done more than blink, one single shot came from the direction of the setting sun.

Tactical had just gotten into place to the west.

The bullet went straight through Lucas' left ear and exited out the right. Morgan's heart stopped for a moment as he saw Emily move her head . . . and then he was running to catch up to Hotch.

But Dave had grabbed his arm, holding him back as he hissed at him again, "you let him go first!"

Morgan had waited for almost a minute, long enough to catch the look on Hotch's face as he saw Emily on the ground covered in blood. In that moment Derek had no doubt that if she had been killed, Hotch would actually have taken his life in return.

It was enough to hold him in his tracks a moment longer. But finally he had to see for himself that she really was all right.

But the looks they had given him . . . and Hotch ordering him to leave.

He understood then, he hadn't just made a mistake . . . he had betrayed them. And though he tried to apologize, he knew it wasn't enough.

How . . . he blinked away the tears in his eyes . . . how was it ever going to be enough?

Seeing Hotch now coming towards him, Morgan braced himself.

He'd never seen him look that angry.

"WHAT THE **FUCK** WERE YOU THINKING!!?" Hotch screamed, "I TOLD YOU TO **HOLD**! I told you to stick TOGETHER! You're suspended for TEN days, five without pay for disobeying a direct order and reckless disregard for the safety of another agent!! And Morgan," he shook his head furiously, "if you didn't have so much good will stored up I'd have you transferred off this team tonight!"

If it had been ANYONE else, Hotch would cut them without a second thought.

Derek gave a sharp nod, "yes sir."

The suspension was deserved, he was just grateful for being allowed to stay.

And though part of him knew that it probably wasn't a good idea, he knew he had to try again to apologize. So he cleared his throat, "Hotch, if I can just say . . ."

As Morgan started to explain himself, Hotch cut in viciously, "what would you like to SAY Derek? That you're _sorry_? Do you think I give a shit that you're sorry? You apologize to Prentiss, not to me. And she will be over to see you in the morning, and no matter what she says to you," he shot him a dangerous look, "or DOES to you, you are to stand there and take it without a word of protest. Is that understood?"

If she smashed his head into the wall and broke his nose, Hotch was writing it up as a slip and fall. As far as he was concerned, Morgan was taking whatever Emily wanted to dish out.

Morgan swallowed, "yes sir."

Oh Christ, how was he ever going to fix this if he couldn't even apologize for what he'd done?

Trying to reign in his emotions, Hotch's gaze dropped to the ground for a moment.

'_Breathe Aaron . . . just breathe.'_

When Hotch looked back up at Derek again, some of the anger was gone. But what Morgan saw it replaced with was even worse.

Hurt.

Hotch's voice was thick with emotion when he began speaking again, "I _trusted_ you with her. I trusted you Morgan. I've always trusted you above even Dave to keep her safe if I'm not there. If she'd been with anyone else I would have ordered them to hold position at the end of the access road. But because it was the two of you together, I let you go closer. I knew that you were sharp and experienced and would have each other's backs," he shook his head sadly, "but you didn't," his voice caught, "you _left _her. You left her alone because you needed to go off and play hero. And unlike the times before when it all worked out, this time Emily came this close," Hotch pinched his fingers together, "_this_ close, to having her throat slit right in front of us," Hotch bit the inside of his cheek before he asked, "what if we'd arrived two minutes later?"

That question was rhetorical, but the next one wasn't, "would you have come back from that?"

The tears pooled as Derek shook his head and whispered, "no."

He never would have recovered from that.

Echoing his movement, Hotch said softly, "I wouldn't have either."

He had no doubt . . . that would have been the end of the road for him.

Both of them dropped their eyes to the trampled snow . . . Hotch could almost see the blood. And when he looked back up, his tone had hardened to steel once again, "so the _next_ time that little voice in your head tells you to do something after I have specifically told you to do something else, I want you to picture her jugular being sliced open and the crimson splashing onto the white snow. And I trust THAT image will be sufficient to prevent us from _ever_ having to have this conversation again."

And if what happened tonight wasn't enough for Morgan to finally get it, then, well he probably would have to transfer him off the team.

Derek's eyes snapped back up, "please believe me Hotch, we will NEVER have to have this conversation again."

One colossal fuckup per lifetime was enough for him.

Hotch gave him an appraising stare before finally tipping his head, "I believe that's true. And I'm sorry for Emily's sake that it took this incident for you to finally listen to what I've been saying to you all these years. But," Hotch snapped his jaw, "at least none of us had to _die_ to prove the point." Derek winced as Hotch continued, "and I think by the time you return from suspension that we'll be able to move past this, but right now," Hotch scrubbed his hand down his face, "Derek I can't stand to look at you. So please, just get out of here and go back to the precinct, give your statement and do your best to avoid the rest of us until morning. Because trust me," he jerked his chin back over to the driveway, "I'm not the only one that wants a piece of you right now."

Looking across the field, Derek saw Rossi and Reid flanking Emily as she sat on the back of one of the SUVs.

She was wrapped in a dark blanket and staring at the ground. But the men, even at a distance Derek could just make out their expressions in the flashing blue and red of the lights.

Disgust . . . disappointment

Morgan had never seen Spencer look at him like that before. They fought, but he knew that Reid had always looked up to him. But not now.

Maybe not ever again.

Derek had let him down. He'd let all of them down. It was going to take some time to fix this. He was just grateful that Hotch was allowing him the chance to make things right.

As Hotch turned to walk away, Derek called out to him, "I know you don't want to hear it, but . . . I am sorry. Truly. And I'll do whatever I have to do to rebuild your trust." His voice broke, "you know I wouldn't hesitate to trade my life for hers."

That was the bitch of it. He loved Emily. He would do anything for her, including take a bullet. And tonight he was the one that had put her in danger.

Putting aside what the rest of them thought, he didn't even know if he'd be able to forgive himself.

Hotch stopped walking but he didn't look back. And then he took a breath as his head dropped to his chest and he said softly, "I know Derek . . . I know."

When he looked back over his shoulder, Hotch saw the misery on Morgan's face.

It cut down through the anger, down through the hurt . . . and that's when Hotch remembered . . . he loved Derek too. And he would forgive him.

Just not today.

They stared at each other for a moment before Hotch's expression softened slightly and he tipped his head, "two weeks Morgan. Two weeks and we'll put it behind us."

And with that he walked back over to the rest of team, leaving Morgan out in the cold.

Halfway back to the group Hotch motioned Reid to come closer. When Spencer jogged up, Hotch leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"I want you to get a sample of that blood and tissue to a lab tonight. HIV, hepatitis, hell that mad cow disease, _anything,_" he gave him a hard look, "anything, you can think of that might be communicable. I don't care how much you have to pay to have it done by morning, just give me the bill. But I want a piece of paper showing a clean bill of health on the deceased by the time Prentiss gets on that jet tomorrow."

Reid nodded and was already preparing a mental list as he hurried over to the crime scene unit that was set up down by the body.

Perplexed, Rossi watched Reid run down to the techs standing by the headless corpse on the ground. What was he . . .?

But then as Spencer started gesturing Dave realized what he had been tasked to do.

Jesus . . . he winced . . . if life didn't you coming, it got you going.

Pushing himself off the bench, he met Hotch about ten feet back from the SUV. And then . . . hoping that Emily wouldn't hear . . . he began to whisper, "you know statistically there are factors here in our favor. He's never been married, he's never been in prison, and," Dave made a face, "he prefers the company of little girls. At the very least the risk of STDs are low."

As far as small favors went, Rossi knew that was near the bottom of the list.

Hotch nodded as he looked over at Emily still staring at the ground. Then he said softly, "I know. I just want her to have peace of mind."

Following Hotch's gaze back to Emily, Dave lowered his voice even further, "I think she should go to the hospital. She's probably in shock."

Whether or not she actually heard him, or just sensed that she was being talked about, just then Emily snapped her head up and caught Hotch's eyes. She stared hard at him until he gave her a ghost of a smile and a slight nod.

'_Understood sweetheart.'_

Then he turned back to Dave and said firmly, "no hospital. She's not in shock. She's just upset."

Shock had been an earlier concern for Hotch as well. But she'd just told him that she was fine. And he wasn't about to argue with her tonight.

For once his overprotective streak was working in her favor. He knew that she hadn't been injured in any way so he just wanted to take of her himself.

That's what you did for those that you loved. You took care of them.

Dave looked back to Emily. Whatever it was that Hotch was seeing, Dave didn't. He saw a pale, shaking woman with blood drying in her hair and on her clothes.

When he whipped his head back around he tried to argue, "hell Hotch, _I'm_ upset, she needs to be checked out."

But Hotch was already shaking his head dismissively, "she's okay, trust me on this Dave."

And then Hotch suddenly straightened up.

The sheriff was approaching. And seeing the grim look on the other man's face, Hotch cursed to himself . . . shit. This wasn't going to be good.

"They're all dead," the sheriff announced without ceremony, "we found their bodies inside. Our girls and six others. We'll fax their photos to the other jurisdictions you said he was flagged in and see if they recognize them." He paused for a moment before wincing, "it looks like he'd stuffed their bodies and then arranged them like dolls around the room," he shook his head in disbelief, "it took a second to realize what we were . . ."

His voice faded for a moment before he shook his head again, "anyway, we also found a hell of an arsenal off the kitchen, complete with propane tanks and bags of fertilizer." His jaw twitched as he looked over towards Emily and asked with concern, "is your agent okay?"

Hotch didn't respond. He was still processing what the sheriff had just said . . . stuffed.

Jones had worked in a taxidermy shop when he was a teenager. That had to have been . . .

"Agent Hotchner?"

"What?" Hotch's head snapped up as he ran through the last thirty seconds in his head, "yes, sorry sheriff, she's okay," he gestured to Dave, "Agent Rossi is going to remain onsite for a little longer but the rest of us have some matters we need to attend to."

Dave shot Hotch a look as he nodded his assent to that plan. He might not have agreed with his friend's assessment of their girl's mental status, but he knew that the other man would take care of it either way.

Though it wasn't the time for such thoughts, part of Rossi hoped that maybe this incident would be enough for Hotch to finally tell Emily how he felt.

But he doubted it.

Rossi had three ex-wives, all of his marriages had ended catastrophically, and he wouldn't have traded a minute with any of them. But Hotch and Emily, these damn kids were just wasting time. He knew Hotch was gun shy, and Emily had her own set of baggage, but come on already.

Though the rest of the team wasn't aware of the extent of it, Dave knew that the two of them spent almost every free moment together.

He got her coffee, she got his attention by putting her hand on his knee, they sat together on the plane, they partnered up every case, and more often than not one or the other would fall asleep on the shoulder of the other, on the plane, in the car, in the hotel room.

They were head over heels, with eyes for no others.

But twenty years of studying behavior told Dave that they still weren't sleeping together. And it pained him to admit that the romantic in him found their unrequited love to be sweet. But the Italian in him just thought that Hotch should grow a pair already.

Either way though, it was their life, not his. So he was minding his own business.

They'd figure it out eventually.

He watched as Hotch shook hands with the sheriff, and then Dave and the other man headed down to the cabin.

After he walked a few meters, Dave glanced back to see Hotch taking Emily's hand as he helped her up.

All right . . . he sighed . . . tonight they were sweet.

And then Dave Rossi put the two of them out of his head as he entered his latest house of horrors.

///////

Hotch walked over to Emily, looking down at her for a moment before taking her hand and pulling her up in front of him.

Then he said softly, "I see Reid got the worst of it off of you. That's good. But we're going back to the motel now to get you cleaned up properly."

Emily gave Hotch a grim smile, "I think there's a nuclear power plant nearby so if you don't mind stopping, I'd like to take one of those silkwood showers."

His eyes crinkled sadly, "I promise you sweetheart. I'll get you clean."

Well, he could get her physically clean anyway. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to wipe off the metaphorical sludge covering her.

This was not a night that she needed to add to her already shitty memory book.

But they'd get through it together . . . he squeezed her hand as they started down the driveway . . . because that's what they did.

Emily held Hotch's hand tightly as they cut around the emergency vehicles blocking the access road. Hotch and Dave had ditched their SUV at the entrance of that road so they could cut over the woods to the property. But now they'd take this one and Dave would catch a ride back in town with Reid.

Once they arrived at the Tahoe, Hotch threw another blanket down on the seat. And before he could even reach for her, Emily had climbed in without any assistance.

Though he'd known in his bones that she wasn't in shock, it was still good to have the confirmation that she was really okay.

She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

And Hotch was happy to oblige as he slammed her door shut and hurried around to the driver's side.

////////

On the drive back to the motel, Emily asked Hotch what the sheriff said they found inside the cabin. The arsenal was news to her. And she was quiet for a moment when she heard about all of the other girls. But then she shook her head and put it aside to deal with later. If she started thinking about the emotional ramifications of what had happened she'd break down. It wasn't time for that yet.

So she moved on to ask what had happened with Morgan. She nodded at the suspension, given what he had done, it was more than fair.

As they turned onto the main highway she began to chew her lip . . . and tomorrow morning she'd give Derek a piece of her mind too.

And then hopefully . . . she reached over and put her hand on Hotch's leg . . . she'd start to move past this.

///////

They were staying at an older, open air style motel that had external access doors on all of their rooms. As was well known amongst the team, it wasn't Hotch's favorite type of establishment. So per usual, for security reasons he had insisted that all of their rooms at least have connecting doors.

He might not have liked the motel, but given their particular situation this evening, it actually worked to their advantage. After they parked, he stopped into the manager's office and collected a few garbage bags and a stack of extra towels from the housekeeping cart.

Emily waited outside so they wouldn't scare the hell out of anyone.

Then the two of them crossed the parking lot to her room. It was on the second level, on the end and right next to Hotch's. Their rooms connected, as did Rossi and Jordan's, and Morgan and Reid's respectively.

Emily unlocked the door . . . she'd been pleased that it was a real key, not a keycard . . . and then let Hotch enter before her. He spread out two of the towels on the floor and then Emily stepped inside the room and onto the white cotton. After Hotch leaned around her to lock the door, Emily handed him her empty holster . . . Morgan had sent Hotch a text that he had her pistol . . . and then she began to strip down to her underwear. Not that it was really a concern, but some part of her brain was relieved that it was at least a modest set that she'd put on that day.

Boy cut boxers and sports bra, both in black.

She might have accidentally flashed Hotch on two separate occasions . . . and she might very much have big plans to make love to the man in the near future . . . but it would be nice if she didn't turn this horrific night into a cheesy scene from an eighties slasher flick.

For his part, Hotch had seen most of Emily's lovely form in the past. And besides, this was clearly NOT the time for ogling, so he only glanced at the expanse of bare skin expanding before him as he snapped on his gloves.

Each item that she dropped on the towel, he checked through the pockets. He pulled out her wallet and her badge, a receipt from lunch, and then finally a pack of gum.

The gum went right into the trash.

It wasn't contaminated but . . . his nose wrinkled . . . he still sure as hell wasn't keeping it.

The wallet and the badge he handed to her before gathering up her shirt, her pants, her vest and her windbreaker and dumping them into one of the trash bags. The blood was dry now but he still double bagged it and tagged it with his initials before bringing it down to place in the back of the SUV.

As he headed back to the room he called Dave on his cell and asked for him or Reid to come collect it. Everything needed to be processed and added to the evidence back at the station.

The case was most definitely closed, but Hotch would prefer to continue with chain of custody until all the loose ends were tied off.

Five minutes after he left, Hotch slipped back into Emily's room. As he shut the main door behind him he could hear the shower running.

It was cool enough . . . and he'd been gone long enough . . . that the steam drifting out of the open bathroom door was beginning to form condensation on the paneled walls of the room.

After giving a perfunctory knock on the open door, Hotch poked his head around the corner. He saw Emily sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, still clad in only her underwear.

She was just staring at the wall.

Beginning to perspire from the heat of the shower, Hotch loosened his tie as he took a step towards her and stopped, "Emily?"

No response.

And then he said it again softly as he took another step, "Emily?"

Still nothing.

So he took a different approach as he moved up next to her and whispered, "sweetheart, are you okay?"

That finally worked.

But as she turned to him, he swallowed . . . her eyes were vacant. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity.

And then she blinked and opened her mouth, "I saw Katie Wells . . . she was stuffed like a deer."

She stopped, her eyes dropping to the tile again.

As horrible as her words were, it was her tone that truly upset Hotch. There was no emotion there. And he knew then that she was playing with her little boxes.

Trying to put things away.

But he knew they wouldn't fit. Some of the things that they saw, there was just no place to put them.

Still though, he stood there patiently and let her try. These were things that you had to figure out for yourself.

A moment later she looked back up at him in confusion and he knew that she was starting to see that she wouldn't be able to just put this one away and forget about it.

Emily's brow wrinkled as she thought back on what she'd seen, "who does that to a person? To a child?" She looked down, "of all the terrible things we've seen, I think that one's going to stick with me for the longest."

Sometimes she wondered if there was a statute of limitations on nightmares. Would these terrible images still be haunting her when she was seventy . . . eighty?

Would she ever be normal again?

As those questions bounced around in her brain, she was silent a moment longer. And then her memories of that moment in the room with the dead children came roaring at her with crystal clarity.

Oh dear Jesus . . . she sucked in a breath . . . oh God!

Her gaze snapped up to Hotch's, "actually I didn't just SEE her, he pushed me and I fell on top of her and broke off one of her fingers." Her eyes began to fill with tears, "oh Jesus Aaron! I broke off one of her FINGERS!"

OH GOD . . . she began to rock back and forth as the tears spilled over . . . OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD, please take this memory away.

At her plaintive cry Hotch winced in sympathy as he dropped to his knees in front of her. Then he began running his hands along her thighs trying to soothe her. As he stared at her face he saw that the tears were leaving faint tracks on her skin.

Spencer had missed a few spots.

Hotch moved his hands up to her waist . . . he had no words to make her feel better. There was no comfort he could offer her, and that was killing him.

His voice broke as he whispered, "come on, sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up and then we'll go to bed."

She didn't respond, but she did allow him to tug her to her feet. He let go of her so could he could take off his own windbreaker and vest, throwing them in the other corner of the bathroom. Then off came his dress shirt, he kicked off his shoes and socks and emptied his pockets.

At the last minute he remembered his gun and put his holster on the sink. Just before he turned back to Emily he said screw it and just took off his pants and t-shirt too.

She needed a proper shower and she wasn't in any condition to clean herself up.

Emily just watched him as tears ran silently down her face. Once he was down to his underwear, Hotch took her hand and helped her into the tub.

It wasn't the first shower that they'd taken together when one of them was broken and needed help. Tonight he was just returning the favor she had paid him after the shooting.

After Hotch had her settled on the edge of the tub, he knelt down next to her and began to wash the blood off of her. Fortunately her layers of clothes had covered most of her body. But Unfortunately the little bits of her skin that were exposed had taken the worst of it anyway.

So gently he scrubbed her fingernails and around her ears. Then he washed her face again before he took out her ponytail, took the nozzle off the wall and rinsed her hair until the water ran clear. Then he washed it three times. And then decided a fourth wouldn't hurt.

Once he was sure that her hair was clean, he grabbed a clean washcloth, soaped it up and wiped her skin off once more.

His hands ran back and forth along the curves of her body. Soaping her up and rinsing her off two more times.

Under any other circumstances these acts would have been sexual, but she'd been crying the whole time they were in the tub. And the water had been swirling pink and red for the first ten minutes that he was washing her.

Sex was about the farthest thing from Hotch's mind that night.

After he'd scrubbed her skin pink and her hair was shining and smelled of nothing but cinnamon, Hotch turned off the faucet and pulled open the curtain again. He stepped out and grabbed two towels, one he pulled around his own shoulders, and the other he draped around hers. Then he perched himself next to her on the rim of the porcelain.

They sat for a moment listening to the faucet drip. And then Emily turned her body around and put her feet on the bathmat next to his.

Her eyes were still red rimmed, but she'd stopped crying as she looked over to give him a sad smile.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything. Instead he pulled her over into his lap and hugged her tightly to his chest.

What would he do without her?

Emily's breath hitched once as she squeezed him back, and then she mumbled into his neck.

"We're going to catch pneumonia."

Now that the shower was off, the room was cooling down. Even sitting in his lap . . . usually the one place that she was warm . . . she could already feel the goosebumps breaking out on her arms.

Hotch nodded as he whispered, "you're right."

And then he took a breath . . . tightened his grip on her . . . and stood up. Still cradling her to his chest, Hotch carried Emily into the bedroom.

She had two full size beds and he put her down on the corner of one of them and handed her the extra towels off the other. Then he cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand.

"I'm going to go next door to change. I'll be back in a minute."

She gave him a little smile before she leaned up and kissed him.

It was a thank you kiss . . . nothing more.

"Hurry back," she said softly as she patted his cheek.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he nodded, "you won't even have time to miss me," and then he turned to grab his things from the bathroom before cutting through the connecting door between their rooms.

As Emily watched him disappear into that other room she whispered, "I miss you already."

Her eyes began to burn and she quickly blinked the tears away as she stood up and began stripping off her wet underwear.

////////

After he rubbed his hair dry in his own bathroom, Hotch took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror.

He could have lost her today. Really only a few seconds would have made all the difference. He should tell her.

But . . . he bit his lip . . . she was upset and vulnerable, and he didn't want to take advantage of her dependence on him at the moment. And he had no doubt that tonight she was completely dependent on him. So it wasn't right to bring it up now when her power in their relationship wasn't equal.

If she didn't feel the same way, he didn't want to manipulate her into saying . . . or doing . . . something that maybe she wouldn't choose to do tomorrow.

No . . . he shook his head slightly . . . no, he wouldn't tell her tonight.

But soon.

It had to be soon. Time was too short and he had to stop chickening out.

He rolled his eyes . . . put him in a room with a serial killer and he's fine. Make him tell a beautiful woman that he's in love with her, suddenly he has to go pick up his dry cleaning.

Pathetic.

Now that he'd decided that the status quo would hold for one more night, Hotch left the bathroom and quickly pulled on his boxers and pajamas. After he grabbed his phone and gun off the bed, he turned off the lights and headed back over to her room.

As Hotch stepped through the doorway he saw that Emily was dressed entirely in his clothes.

Though he hadn't thought much about it in the beginning, now he really liked seeing her in his things. It implied . . . well, it implied that she was his. And he didn't consider that to be a sexist term because in the alternative, he had no interest, or eyes, for any woman besides her.

So for all intents, even though it was undeclared . . . he was hers.

They were even. And that's why it wasn't sexist.

And as he looked at her now, his lip quirked up in faint amusement, "I knew that you had the t-shirt. When did you steal the pants?"

Still combing out her hair, Emily gave him a small smile, "Atlanta, the day we met Viper."

His UVA t-shirt and a pair of black flannel pants, she carried them with her in her go bag. She knew Hotch didn't think anything of it.

Women steal men's clothes all the time.

But he didn't know that she wore them when she was lonely and wanted a reminder of him. And even though tonight she was going to have him with her, these were special circumstances and she wanted both him and his clothes wrapped around her.

She held up her towel.

"Can you dry my hair?"

Of course she had a perfectly good hair dryer, but she didn't want it.

She just wanted him.

His expression softened as he nodded and whispered, "of course." Then he crossed over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Emily got down cross legged on the floor in front of Hotch just like she had on the, as she called it, 'Night of the MegaloSpiders.'

As he began to rub her hair dry, Emily wrapped her arm around his calf and ran her fingers up and down the soft flannel.

Hotch thought to himself that these little things that they did together, they didn't do them with anyone else. They were personal, and familial, and made them feel connected.

They were connected.

Then he realized guiltily that he was more connected now with Emily than he ever had been with his wife over the entire twenty years of their marriage.

He wasn't sure what that said, but he was pretty sure that it wasn't anything good about him.

Once her hair was dry, he smoothed it out with his fingers and they sat for a moment. Her sitting between his legs, resting her cheek on his knee, him running his fingers through her hair.

Neither one of them wanted to get up.

But then Emily realized that if she moved up to the bed then she could cuddle. And that was enough to get her moving. She patted Hotch's leg and he sighed as he reached down and grabbed her hands, pulling her up off the ground as he stood.

Now that they were up, they got down to business so they could get to bed.

Emily picked up the wet towel off the floor and threw it into the bathroom. As she walked back across the room she clicked the wall switch to turn off the overhead light.

That was better. Now the only illumination left in the room came from the glare of the sodium lamps in the parking lot. They were throwing shadows through the blinds.

While Emily had been in the bathroom, Hotch had pulled back the covers and was standing there waiting for her to lie down before he got in on the other side.

Then he huffed to himself . . . he had a 'side of the bed' with a woman he wasn't even having sex with. If Rossi ever found out about that he'd never hear the end of it.

Yet another point in the, 'you have to tell her VERY soon' column.

Once Emily had climbed into bed, Hotch lay down on his back and she climbed on top of him and fisted his t-shirt in her fingers.

As she buried her face in his neck, he pulled the blankets up around her shoulders. And then he slipped his hands underneath the covers and wrapped her up in his arms. But no matter how close he held her, he knew that she'd have nightmares tonight.

They both would.

Emily closed her eyes and breathed in Hotch's scent. As always . . . it calmed her. And then she remembered that Morgan's used to calm her too. And she wondered if it still would. Or if that was something so visceral that it had been destroyed tonight as well.

Her eyes started to sting . . . she hoped not. She wanted to forgive him. She wanted to move past this.

She wanted it to be like it was yesterday.

And she decided that once she wasn't angry anymore, once they moved to just awkwardness, she'd give him the sniff test.

Just to make sure that things would be okay.

But for now . . . she sighed . . . she was putting Derek Morgan out of her mind. For now it was just enough that Hotch made her feel safe . . . even though it had been proven to them yet again tonight that safety was a myth.

Fairy tales persisted for a reason though . . . people wanted to believe.

And as she felt him press his lips to her skin, and heard him murmur, "goodnight sweet girl," she suddenly knew for certain . . . he loved her.

He loved her as much as she did him.

And at that realization, she felt a swell of joy in her heart that pushed down some of the sadness that was filling her soul.

Because this thing that they didn't talk about . . . that they weren't ready to talk about . . . she'd take what she could get.

And as she felt the warmth of his arms wrapped around her, with their legs tangled together, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Tonight what she was getting was pretty damn good.

* * *

_A/N 2: This is why my brain short circuited about a month ago. THIS thread of Morgan going off and playing hero (tackle after tackle after tackle) through the years had so much potential. And it was a thread that, if they had addressed it, would have shown true character development. But they didn't do that. They just pretended like it didn't even exist. That less than a year ago, Hotch didn't practically flat out say to Derek that he would never be ready for his own command until he dealt with this particular sticking point. And it was a valid point. But did we EVER see that get addressed again. No. Instead, all of a sudden Hotch inexplicably turns over the ENTIRE team to Morgan for reasons still beyond me. Why wouldn't Dave just be in charge? Especially given that it all supposed to be "temporary" anyway and Dave was temporarily in charge while Hotch was in the hospital. Again, it was just too ridiculous and contrived and my muse just threw up her hands and walked out the door. _

_All that said, I really don't want to talk about that ridiculous twist anymore. And I wouldn't have brought it up now (it upsets my brain to dwell on it) if not for the direct correlation between my attempts here to "seriously" address the character development issue and the show's complete disregard for said issue. _

_But now that this chapter is finally up, I can wash my hands of the whole thing and just move on to stitching up team relations. So moving on, through the last few chapters here I will of course mend fences so that things will be back to normal before The Hours begins. That's a couple weeks out in their world. This incident here will be the focal point of the next couple chapters and then it'll start to fade as a side issue. I really do want to get this wrapped SOON so I can write some Christmas stuff for them (that means I need to get them out of November!) There are exactly 14 chapters left now and I'm planning on getting at least one more up this weekend (yay to my super long four and a half day holiday weekend!). Hopefully two, because I wrote a little side piece from Garcia's perspective and I don't think that will take long to clean up. _

_The title, originally it was just a placeholder but then I decided I really like it. You know, a place that epitomizes a horrible moment in time. And Great Falls will stand out in all of their minds as a moment when everything changed. Also, I had planned to get this up Sunday but when I read through it I decided to change a LOT. I wrote the draft months ago and their relationship is much further along than I'd realized it would be. So there were opportunities here to move them forward a bit more. By the time I was done, the chapter literally doubled in size from the 6000 words it was to the 12,000 it now is. I could have made it a couple of chapters but I'm not looking to prolong this story out anymore!_

_**Prompts**__: Good news on the prompt front, we got two more people playing in the AU, yay! Kavi put up a couple more ideas for stories and I'm happy to say that Arcadya is intrigued by one of them (sorry hon, thought if I threw you under the bus you'd write the fairytale one :)) And I'm dismayed to say that I already started writing a story about the other idea that Kavi put up. So the AU prompt is definitely earning it's keep :) And I do promise not to put it up this new AU story until it's ENTIRELY finished! I picked the flashback to Emily's college years one and it's not going to be super long. I might actually finish it this weekend! I'm also putting up two more prompt ideas myself over the next couple days. Seriously, if you guys have any ideas for AU stories please share them. If you don't feel comfortable posting on the forum as yourself, you can send me a PM and I'll put it up for you as an anonymous submission._

_Now, even though it's like midnight I have to go mix up a two or three pies because I told my parents I would cook this year so my Mum decided to invite over like six extra people. Yeah, awesome_

_So Gobble Gobble, to everyone in the States :) I'll be back again in a couple days with updates on A Wrinkle in Time, and Girl. But again, super long weekend for me so I'm really hoping to crank some other stuff out that's nearing completion._

_Next: __**"Great Falls, Redux"**_


	124. Great Falls Redux

**Author's Note**: I have torn myself out of the gingerbread world so I could get this one up. Like the last one, **WARNING** - ugly themes, language and imagery. A bit worse than last time actually.

Beyond that, again I'll let you figure out what's going on as you go along. I still have to get back to a few people who left me reviews on the last chapter here. Sorry! Soon.

As you start this, please note the chapter title and then just go with it ;)

And the poem, that's another stanza from the same piece I used in Three Long Mountains.

* * *

_Late November: Thursday_

_Mine, pity like the pity of God.  
Ah, awful weight! Infinity  
Pressed down upon the finite Me!  
My anguished spirit, like a bird,  
Beating against my lips I heard;  
Yet lay the weight so close about  
There was no room for it without.  
And so beneath the weight lay I  
And suffered death, but could not die._

_-- Renascence, Edna St. Vincent Millay_

**Great Falls Redux**

Emily moved her head slightly just as the gunshot echoed across the valley. And then Hotch was half running, half sliding down the snow covered hill to get to her. All he could see in the gathering twilight was red splattered over the white of the snow and two bodies on the ground.

One of them was missing a head.

PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD PLEASE GOD

Over and over he prayed as he ran towards her. Morgan and Rossi were fast coming up the rear and the local P.D. filled in the gaps around them.

Hotch was screaming as he crossed the field, "EMILY! EMILY, ARE YOU HURT?!"

To his growing horror, as Hotch ran up he saw that Emily was covered in blood. Then his heart skipped a beat as he realized that her eyes were open . . . but she wasn't moving.

And she wasn't answering him.

He skidded to a stop, dropping to his knees as he touched her face, begging, "oh no sweetheart," his voice cracked, "_please_ don't do this to me!"

And even though part of him already knew it was too late, he began frantically trying to wipe away the blood and gore from her face and neck.

Feeling the hysteria begin to rise up, he desperately plunged his hands into the pool of crimson around her throat until he found the slice.

It went all the way around her carotid.

The shot came too late.

A wave of grief tore through his chest and he fell backwards, his bloody hands staining the trampled snow behind him.

Why he couldn't he breathe? He began to cry. Dear God why couldn't he breathe!?

At that moment Derek pounded up and Hotch's grief morphed into a blinding rage as he screamed at him, "GET THE FUCK OUT!!"

When Morgan just stood there with his mouth agape, Hotch's fury reached a new pitch. His voice dropped and his tone went murderous as he hissed, "so help me God Morgan, you leave now before I put a bullet in your brain."

He'd killed her. He'd killed her as surely as if he'd plunged the knife in himself.

As the reality of what had happened sunk in, Hotch could see Derek's face lose all of its color.

"No, no, no," he moaned, "no she's not dead Hotch. She can't be dead."

His gaze snapped down to her still body, and then Hotch could see his eyes begin to fill.

And then he gagged, whipping his head around as he threw up in the snow. When he turned back, tears were pouring down his face as he reached for her, choking out, "I'm so sorry Emily!"

"You KILLED her!" Hotch howled as he hugged Emily's still warm body to his chest so Morgan couldn't touch her. The tears were blinding him as he looked up incredulously, "you don't get to be SORRY!"

As though apologies mattered when his girl was dead!

Morgan physically recoiled as though he'd been struck. And he opened his mouth again, but then he choked back a sob and spun around, running back the way they'd come.

Just after he passed Dave bent over sobbing, Hotch saw Morgan fall to his knees.

He didn't get up.

Through his tears, Hotch looked after him with disbelief and fury.

_How could he have done this to her!?_

His eyes fell back down to Emily in his arms and his face contorted in agony. As he brushed the bloody strands of hair back, he whispered a brokenhearted, "sweetheart, I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you."

And then he shifted his arm and her head flopped back. An indescribable pain ripped through his chest.

Oh God! How was he ever going to tell Jack!?

Trying desperately to get his sobbing under control, Hotch picked up her lifeless body and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

He knew that it was against protocol, but he didn't give a shit. He wasn't leaving her there in the snow . . . a fresh wave of tears hit him . . . she'd get cold.

As he clutched her to his chest, he felt her fading warmth leaching into his body. He bit through his bottom lip until he tasted blood.

If not for that horrendous gash, she could have been sleeping.

God . . . another sob ripped through him . . . WHY?! Why did you do this to us?!

Cradling her like he once did his infant son, Hotch began to walk slowly across the field.

Sanguine droplets were dotting the whiteness of their path.

When he got to the driveway, Hotch saw Reid jumping out of one of the Suburbans, yelling in a near panic.

"HOTCH!? IS EMILY OKAY?!"

Suddenly Reid stopped short and his eyes began filling with tears as he saw all the blood. Hotch's voice had no inflection as he answered.

"She's dead Spencer."

Hotch woke up gasping.

/////////

Morgan broke through the trees at a dead run, leaping off the incline onto the gravel road and falling to one knee. He leapt up and sprinted into the middle of the road with his badge and his gun out in front of him.

A second later he heard the rumble of the pickup coming around the bend. A few seconds after that the truck turned the corner and Derek's heart rate ramped up.

The truck stopped.

Showtime.

Taking a deep breath, and holding his badge out clearly in front of him, Morgan cautiously approached the driver's side door.

This was always the worst part. The UNSUB could gun it and try to run him down before he got off more than a shot.

But as Derek slowly walked up, his eyes widened in astonishment . . . it wasn't Jones!

FUCK!

The man leaned out the window and asked nervously, "is there a problem officer?"

Morgan's mouth opened and closed as he tried to decide what to do. There was nothing in the profile to indicate there was a partner.

But never say never. They'd been surprised before.

So after he shot a quick worried glance up the hill, Derek schooled his features, projecting complete confidence and control to the man in front of him.

"Sir, please put your hands on the steering wheel," Morgan commanded.

Seeing the man immediately clamp his hands onto the leather covered circle in front of him, Morgan continued, "now sir, state your name and explain to me your relationship with Mr. Jones."

The other man's eyes widened slightly, "name's Jim Parsons and there's no 'relationship' with Jones. I just got some firewood from the guy," he jerked his head, "it's in the back."

At his words, Morgan suddenly flashed on Garcia saying that selling firewood was Jones supplemental income.

Oh Christ!

Immediately dismissing any danger from the man in front of him, Derek ran down to the bed of the truck and frantically ripped open the blue plastic sheeting.

Firewood.

FUCK!!!!!

It was the first word that popped into his mind. The second was, 'EMILY!'

OH JESUS, HE'D LEFT HER ALONE!

Leaving Parsons in the middle of the road, Morgan spun around and started sprinting back up the hill, cursing his stupidity the whole way.

She said not to leave her. She said there was no way to be sure. And she was right. And he just left her alone up there with an UNSUB.

He broke through the pines in a near panic. His eyes scanned wildly and then he saw Emily's pistol on the ground.

FUCK!!! He screamed again in his head.

He ran over and jammed the gun into his pocket. Then he looked down the hill towards the cabin they'd been watching.

His eyes widened as he saw Emily being shoved into the open door around back.

Without thinking, Morgan once again he took off running. The downward angle of the hill doubled his speed and he covered the distance in half the time he would have expected.

Derek knew that he'd already made one gigantic miscalculation that afternoon, but it wasn't too late to fix things.

She'd just been taken. He could get her back before the UNSUB hunkered down.

This was the time to strike.

And with that thought in his mind, Morgan sidled up to the side of the cabin and poked his head around the corner.

The door had slammed shut a few seconds before.

For a moment he hesitated, but then he made the final decision. If he followed after them immediately he'd have the element of surprise.

So he ran and kicked in the door.

Jones was just on the other side with his shotgun still trained on Emily. As the door flew open it startled him, and he accidentally squeezed the trigger.

Morgan fired the next shot which spun Jones like a top. The shotgun went flying out of his hand and then he dropped face down on the wooden planks.

He didn't move again.

After he kicked the gun to the other side of the room, Derek ran over to Emily. But he knew before he took a step that it was already too late.

There was so much blood.

His hands plunged into the hole in her chest as he howled in grief and rage.

"NOOOOO!!!!!"

And then he fell back and began screaming into the radio.

"SHE'S DEAD! HOTCH SHE'S **DEAD!!**!"

Derek woke up sobbing.

/////////////

'_Derek Xavier Morgan I am going to kick your FUCKING ass when you get back up here!'_

That was the main thought bounding around in Emily's head at the moment. She was trying to keep one eye on the cabin, one eye on the woods behind her, one eye on the woods to her left, and one eye on the woods to her right.

She was running about two eyes too short for her own comfort level. And her anxiety was rising with every minute that ticked passed.

'Derek Xavier Morgan I'm going to kick your fucking ass,' popped back into her head again just before Emily heard a twig break to her left.

SHIT!

Her head whipped in one direction as she suddenly heard another twig snap behind her.

First she saw a small grey fox running through the brush, and then she spun around to see both barrels of a Remington shotgun being pointed at her head.

Jones.

Of course.

Her jaw clenched in fury, Emily dropped her weapon, cursing again in her head, 'God DAMN you Morgan!'

Before she had a chance to open her mouth, Jones shoved the gun into her face. For a moment she flinched, bracing herself for the shot that would take her head off.

But it didn't come.

Instead, she felt the barrel hit her shoulder and she opened her eyes to see Jones jerking his head to the side.

Apparently he wanted her to move.

And though it went against every instinct she had as both an agent and a woman to allow herself to be moved to a second location, Emily put her hands up and turned.

Then she began walking slowly down the hill. The only reason that she was doing as Jones instructed was because she knew that Morgan would be back soon.

Though he might have been a completely stubborn jackass today, Emily knew that he would never lie to her. He said five minutes, and she knew that meant five minutes.

He'd back any time.

So she just had to be cooperative for a few minutes, and then Derek would get back and see that she was missing. Then he would call Hotch and Hotch would send in the cavalry.

All she had to do was stay alive until Hotch got there.

When they got to the bottom of the hill, Jones jammed the gun into her back to keep her moving.

Apparently he'd noticed her steps had slowed even further as they approached the cabin.

Well, what the hell did he expect? She was trying to be cooperative, not suicidal.

When they got to the wooden door, his eyes were wide as he moved around her, yanking on the knob and then shoving her through the doorway.

Her breath caught as she heard the door slam shut behind them. Then she clamped down on her lip to suppress the moan that wanted to escape.

Suddenly she'd pictured Reid on those video cameras in another cabin. Never in her life had she wanted to be elsewhere as much as she did in that moment.

As Emily and her captor stared wide eyed at one another, it became clear to her that he hadn't been expecting the police.

His eyes kept dropping down to stare at the bright yellow letters on her FBI windbreaker.

He had her and he didn't know what to do with her.

So they stood there in the mud room for at least a minute . . . though it felt like an eternity . . . and he just stared at her.

Finally he decided something that he didn't share aloud, but Emily didn't like the look that came into his eyes. She had been quiet up to that point, but suddenly she saw the sand start to run out of the hourglass.

And she opened her mouth to speak just as he shoved her through the entrance to the next room.

She wasn't quite sure what she was going to say, but either way it had left her when she tripped over a chair leg just inside the door.

Falling to the ground, Emily landed on top of a large doll that had been knocked off the seat.

She wasn't sure who screamed louder.

Her as she realized that the "doll" that had broken her fall was actually the stuffed corpse of six year old Katie Wells . . . or Jones himself when he saw that one of Katie's fingers had snapped off when her desiccated body had hit the ground.

For a moment Emily was frozen in terror as she lay on the ground, staring at the dismembered pinky finger.

What the FUCK?! OH JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!!

Part of her brain was screaming . . . **RUN!!!!**

But she couldn't.

And during her split second transfixion with the horrors around her, Jones pulled a hunting knife out of his pocket. She saw the blade coming up, but before she could move, he'd fallen on her, pinning her down.

His hot breath hit her face a second before the cold blade hit her neck and she shrieked, "**HOTCH!!!**"

And then she felt the warmth splash onto her chest.

Emily woke up choking.

It took her a second to recognize her surroundings. And when she looked up, she saw Hotch leaning against the headboard staring down at her with concern. He brushed her bangs back as he asked sadly, "do you want to tell me yours?"

Though he'd known they'd have nightmares, he wasn't prepared for the vividness of what he'd seen in his mind. If hers was even half as bad as his he wasn't sure how either of them would get any more sleep tonight.

Shaking her head vehemently, Emily pushed herself up next to him, "no, no I don't want to talk about it."

After his arm came around her and she'd rested her head on his chest, her eyes flicked up to his as she asked hesitantly, "do you want to tell me yours?"

As awful as it would probably be to hear, if it would make him feel better she'd listen.

Hotch's eyes were moist as he said huskily, "no," he kissed the top of her head, "no I don't want to talk about it either."

Emily wrapped her arm around his stomach as her eyes tracked over him to the check the time.

"God," she moaned, "it's not even two!" Emily bit her lip as she looked back up at Hotch, "I _really _don't want to go back to sleep."

If that was what was in store for her she really didn't know if she'd ever be able to sleep again. But then she thought that maybe it was only so horrible because it was so raw.

Hopefully tomorrow it would be better.

Hotch sighed, "me neither, but we do need to rest," he paused for a moment though . . ."

He stared at the clock, calculating back, "we actually did go to bed early."

They had gone to bed around ten, but neither of them had fallen asleep right away. Still though they'd probably had at least three hours of rest, which was more than they got some nights when they were working. He knew that they could stay awake now and still be functional in the morning.

After all, they just needed to wrap things up at the precinct and then it was just the flight home. They could nap there if they were that tired.

So he picked up the remote and huffed humorlessly, "let's see if we have cable."

After he turned on the television, Hotch began flipping channels as he murmured to her, "just say when."

A few seconds later Emily called out, "wait, go back one." Hotch clicked back and looked over at her, "this one right?"

Her eyes crinkled slightly as she nodded, "yeah."

Finally, she caught a break today.

Hotch gave her a small smile, "okay," then he slid down a little and shoved his pillow behind his back. Once he was comfortable he lifted his arm and Emily scooted underneath, molding herself to the side of his body and pillowing her head on his chest.

He began absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair as they lay back and began to watch _Bringing Up Baby_. It was one of her favorite movies, and by some miracle it was on tonight.

When they got home Hotch was seriously considering sending a thank you note to the people at Turner Classics.

After ten minutes of lying in silence, staring at the flickering images, Emily murmured against Hotch's chest, "I dreamt he killed me inside."

He swallowed as he looked down at her, "I dreamt he killed you outside."

The words came out in a whispered rush, as though it would hurt them both less.

As he saw her eyes filling with tears, Hotch felt a stab of pain in his heart.

His poor girl.

He shifted them around, pulling her over into his lap as he tried to reassure both of them that she was still there.

That they were still together.

With a sniffle, Emily wrapped her arm around Hotch's neck and settled back against his chest. And with her cheek resting against his, her gaze shifted back to the soothing sounds of the screwball comedy on the television.

She used to watch this one with her dad.

They sat that way until dawn, watching old movies in silence.

It was a Cary Grant marathon, and as one black and white film after another appeared, Hotch started writing that thank you note to Turner in his head.

Cary Grant was about the only thing Hotch could think that might actually have calmed her that night.

For him though, he was taking comfort in other things. With his arms around her, holding her, protecting her, he could believe for just that little while, that she was completely safe.

And that she was completely his.

He rubbed his hand on her stomach . . . someday soon at least one of those things would be true.

* * *

_A/N 2: If you thought some of that was a bit upsetting to read, you have no idea how brutal it was to write. I actually had done this months ago, and though the nightmares did cover the scenes we didn't see, they were more done in a narrative form. But my writing's gotten better since then, and as I was looking it over (thinking it would have been ready to post immediately) I realized that I couldn't put it up like that. Nightmares aren't narrative. They're "live." And that's why they're so horrible. You get a really bad one and it feels so real. I told Arc, a few months ago, I had this HORRENDOUS dream. It actually woke me up it was so bad. This feeling of an axe blade scraping against bone in my face (yeah, my brain's a scary place). In my mind, I could hear the sound of that scrape, I could feel it reverberating in my teeth. And I shot up in bed and smacked my hand to my forehead, fully expecting to feel it sticky with blood. I even went into the bathroom to look. So, if you've never had a nightmare that bad, you're really lucky. But that's more the sensation of what was happening here. Because that dream for me, was awful and it just kept going on and on. _

_So unfortunately here, I had to reimmerse myself into those scenes and "go live." It sucked! But this was not a chapter that could be scrapped (or skipped over and come back to later) so it had to be done now. _

_The next few chapters are in draft form in my notebook. Emily and Morgan the next morning, Garcia's take and a skip ahead to pick up with them on Morgan's first case back. I'm going to try to get those into e form this weekend so I'll be able to get them up by midweek. I'd really like to get them back to some degree of normalcy by next weekend because then we'll be down to the final 10. And I have been cleaning those up on the side so once they're ready, we might get back to back postings for the last few. Garcia is short enough that I could MAYBE get it up tomorrow night. But no promises. I sort of want a little break from the ugliness. I want to go play in my Gingerbread house again :( _

_On the plus side of the writing schedule, I got a netbook after Thanksgiving so I no longer have to use the paper notebook! Yay! That's why gingerbread's been getting up so quickly this week, I didn't have to transfer anything over. I probably have like a dozen chapters in different stories (including pretty much all of A Pound of flesh) in paper form. But once I get them transferred over, there shouldn't be the middle man lag time any longer. So, in theory, I might actually get things up a little more regularly. _


	125. Paving the Road Ahead

**Author's Note**: Direct continuation from the last chapter.

* * *

_Late November: Thursday_

**Paving the Road Ahead**

Hotch's head snapped up as he heard the knock on the door. Then he looked down to check the clock.

6:13 in the morning.

That had to be somebody on the team. Well . . . he quickly grabbed his phone and gun off the nightstand . . . whoever it was it was way too early for anyone to catch him in Emily's room. So he hurried over to the bathroom and knocked once on the slightly ajar door before he pushed it open all the way.

"Hey," he whispered to Emily, "you have a visitor."

His heart ached as he saw Emily's reflection and the dark circles under her eyes. They'd just gotten up a few minutes earlier after a night of nearly no sleep. Hopefully the nightmares wouldn't linger, but either way, he was definitely sleeping at her house when they got home tonight.

He didn't want her to be alone.

Emily caught Hotch's eyes in the mirror before she spit her toothpaste into the sink. Then she swallowed, "do you think it's Morgan?"

Please don't be Morgan. She wasn't ready for it to be Morgan.

Seeing the flash of discomfort on her face, Hotch gave her a sympathetic smile, "possibly. Do you want me to get it?"

Though God knows it would look bad . . . JJ was still the only one that knew about their sleeping arrangements . . . he'd do it if that's what she wanted.

It took only a second for Emily to consider Hotch's offer before she shook her head decisively, "no, no it's okay, thanks. I'll get it."

Avoidance of the hard stuff wasn't her style.

And just then there was another knock, slightly louder this time and Hotch reached over to squeeze her shoulder as he whispered, "I'm right next door if you need me," and then he turned and crossed over to the connecting door. Emily watched him pull it shut before she started over to the front door calling loudly, "coming," as she went.

When she got to the door she stopped and took a deep breath before she checked the peephole.

Yep . . . her jaw twitched . . . Morgan.

Crap. As angry as she'd been the night before . . . as angry as she still WAS . . . she just didn't feel like getting all worked up at the moment. After only a few hours of sleep, which consisted mainly of one horrific nightmare . . . she really just wanted to wait and deal with the whole situation when she got home.

Then she'd feel more in control.

But as she heard Derek's tentative, "Emily, do you want me to come back?" she realized that as much as she didn't want to, she really did need to deal with this now. She couldn't just tell him that they'd talk later. It was going to be a LONG plane ride home.

Longer still if she didn't at least begin to address this cluster of a situation.

Decision now made, with barely a glance at her room to see if there were any remnants of Hotch, Emily whipped the door open.

For a moment she and Derek just stared at each other. She could see clearly on his face the warring emotions. The wariness, the pain . . . the remorse. He was her oldest friend on the team, a man she'd always trusted to watch her back. A man she loved like a brother.

And she felt like splitting his lip.

So she did.

Derek saw Emily's fist coming up and he had a split second to avoid it. But he didn't. Hotch had said that he was to take whatever she wanted to do to him without protest.

Plus he knew that he deserved it.

As her fist connected with his jaw he winced and fell back slightly.

_Christ she had a hell of a right hook!_

Feeling the trickle of blood running into his mouth, Derek reached up and wiped his thumb across his lower lip. Then he looked down at her and asked cautiously, "again?"

Given the hell he'd put her through, if she wanted to beat the shit out of him she was fully in her rights to do so.

Seeing the blood on Derek's mouth, Emily felt a rush of righteous satisfaction.

_Yes! You bastard you DESERVED that!_

But then she flashed on the gore that had covered her own face the night before. And suddenly all of her anger was gone. It was replaced by a numb weariness.

There had been enough violence.

So she shook her head as she said quietly, "no, no more."

Besides, there was nothing that she could do to him physically that was going to be any worse than the pain that he was already feeling.

But she wasn't ready to forgive him . . . not yet.

Her jaw twitched as she looked up at him, "if you EVER leave me hanging like that again you won't have to worry about Hotch. I'll kill you myself. Is that understood?"

Morgan swallowed, "understood. And I promise Em, it will never happen again."

He wanted to ask her if she was going to forgive him . . . but he was afraid of the answer.

She stared at him for a moment, seeing the question on his face and wishing that she could tell him that they were all right.

But she couldn't.

They weren't all right. But she knew that saying those words aloud would accomplish nothing but cause him pain. And she might have still been upset with him, but she wasn't looking to hurt him just because she could.

That would be petty.

So instead she stepped forward and leaned up on her tiptoes.

Surprised, and a little alarmed , at Emily's unexpected behavior, Morgan froze as he asked cautiously, "um, Emily, what are you doing?"

He wasn't sure if she was about to knee him in the nuts or suck blood from his neck.

"Smelling you," she responded matter of factly as she leaned in close and inhaled deeply.

She instantly felt that same rush of endorphins that she felt around Hotch. Well, not the exact same rush, there was no sexual attraction to Derek, but those same feelings of comfort and safety came to her.

Okay . . . she leaned back and sighed in relief . . . they were going to be okay.

He had passed the sniff test.

So she looked up and nodded crisply at him, "I forgive you."

His face lit up with cautious hope, "you forgive me? Really?"

There was NO way he thought she would say that today! He figured he'd be begging on his knees for a month at least.

Her expression hardened . . . she didn't want him thinking he was getting off that easy.

"What you did was NOT okay Morgan," she said harshly, "I'm still pissed as hell at you!"

He immediately sobered up as he gave her a sharp nod, "I know. And I'll find some way to make it up to you. I swear."

She shook her head slowly, "no," she swallowed, "no you won't be able to make it up to me." Seeing his face fall she said sadly, "that's not how this will work Morgan. I forgive you because we're family and I love you. And eventually I'll stop being mad because time will pass and this moment will fade. But there's nothing you can do that's going to speed either of those things along," she stepped back and folded her arms, "Hotch said he suspended you for two weeks. I'm hoping that's going to be enough time for me to forget. But if it's not," she gave him a look, "I need you to just accept that. We'll get there when we get there, okay?"

It might have sounded harsh, but this is just how it was. Hopefully, two weeks be enough time.

The sniff test gave her hope.

She knew though that you couldn't control your emotions. Sometimes as badly as you wanted something to be true, you just couldn't wish a state of being into existence. Of course she wanted to move past this and not be angry. Anger is a draining, stressful emotion. The sooner she get let it go the happier she'd be.

But this wasn't just about her.

Reid had picked skull bits and grey matter off of her body. Hotch was the one that scrubbed that crap out of her hair. So her anger wasn't just about herself. It was about what they went through too.

And she was probably going to be pissed about that longer than anything she felt for her own betrayal.

So she looked at Morgan and sighed, "I think we're done for now."

That's when she realized that she'd never even let him through the front door. Oh well . . . she huffed humorlessly to herself . . . maybe that would come next week.

Morgan stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, "right," he said softly, "I guess we are."

Why he thought he could just find some way to make this up to her he didn't know. There wasn't one thing that was just going to make it better. She was right. The only thing that was going to fix this was time.

And . . . he turned to go . . . that's what he was going to have to give her.

Emily saw Derek getting ready to walk away and she added haltingly, "well, I uh, guess I'll see you on the plane." That was going to be awkward.

But then to her surprise he shook his head as he directed his words to the carpet at her feet, "no, actually I uh, I bought a ticket."

Her eyes widened, "Derek you don't have to do that."

Christ, that was going to be expensive! Not to mention a hell of a lot longer flight home than they'd be experiencing. Yeah it was going to be awkward to go together but they needed to start dealing with this.

He looked up and gave her a sad smile, "it's a long flight Em. I don't want to be jammed in a small box with the rest of you, any more than you want to be jammed in a small box with me."

For a moment her anger faded completely, and her expression softened as she almost felt a pang of sympathy for him.

Almost.

But she wasn't quite there yet. If she had been she would have given him a hug and insisted that he fly home with them. Instead she just nodded as she said softly, "I understand."

And she did.

That was the bitch of it. She did understand. She knew Derek inside and out. So she knew that he was kicking his own ass more than she ever could. And for now, she was going to let him.

But soon . . . she watched him walk away before she slowly pushed the door shut . . . soon she would tell him enough was enough.

"Are you okay?"

Hearing Hotch's worried voice behind her, Emily turned to see he was standing in the connecting doorway.

She looked at him for a moment before she pouted and opened her arms, "I need a hug."

It was depressing work being angry at one of your closest friends.

But fortunately . . . Hotch hurried over and pulled her into his arms . . . she had a good emergency hugger onsite.

Hotch sighed as he rested his chin on her head. He'd left the door open a crack and had been unapologetically eavesdropping in the other room. She'd been through too much the last twenty four hours, if her conversation with Derek had gotten too ugly or upsetting for her then he would have interceded.

He locked his arms at her waist as he leaned back slightly, "you did good sweetheart," his lip quirked up, "I especially enjoyed the sound of the punch," his eyebrow went up, "nose or gut."

Her lips twitched, "mouth actually. I wanted him to have a fat lip."

His eyes crinkled slightly as he tucked her hair behind her ear, "that's my girl."

It was something he'd wanted to do himself. But he was afraid that he wouldn't stop with just the one.

Emily gave him a little smile before she rested her head back on his chest. And a second later she felt a wave of sadness rising up.

_God this sucked! Why couldn't they go back to yesterday when everything was okay? When she and Derek were joking around together in the SUV. When would they do that again? It could be months._

Feeling the wet spot forming on his shirt, Hotch felt that ache in his heart come back again. He walked them over to the bed and sat them down, sliding back to the headboard before he pulled her into his arms again. As she wept softly against his neck, Hotch reached over and picked up her cell phone off the nightstand where he quickly typed out a text message to Dave.

'_Emily and I won't be going to the station. We'll meet you at the plane at nine._

_-Hotch'_

Just before he put the phone down he sent one more.

'_Morgan's flying home alone.'_

Hotch stared at that one for a moment before he sighed and hit send. Then he dropped the phone on the bed and picked up the remote again. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"More Cary Grant?"

'Please God let there be more Cary Grant,' he prayed.

Emily sniffled before murmuring against his neck, "please."

She hated that she was crying again but she knew that these weren't the same tears as last night. Last night was about her and what had happened. This was about Morgan and the road ahead.

As Hotch settled back against the headboard once more, her hand slid down and wrapped around his chest.

Thank God she had him. Honestly she didn't know if she'd be able to deal with this by herself. Okay, yeah, she'd find a way . . . she always found a way . . . but it would be so much more difficult.

And she knew this was hard for him too. That's when she realized she was making it all about her, and that wasn't right.

So she wiped her tears, pushed herself back and looked up at him. Seeing the concern and worry on his face, she shifted her body around so she was straddling his lap the way she did a few weeks ago when they had that stupid fight. Their eyes locked and she brushed her lips gently against his for a moment. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted a little closer.

"You make the bad stuff easier," she whispered in his ear.

His eyes started to water as he wrapped her up in his arms, "I don't know what I would do without you," came back the emotional response.

God . . . he bit down on his lip . . . she could have died last night. He could be sitting here in her room trying to pack her things and probably crying the whole time.

At that thought he bit down so hard that he could taste blood in his mouth.

"Good news then," she tightened her grasp on his neck, "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." As she felt him clutch her desperately to his chest her tears started to well up again. But she didn't want to cry, she wanted to help him the way he'd been helping her. So she nuzzled his neck and added softly, "how about you call Haley and see if we can pick up Jack and take him to dinner tonight?"

Jack was the most positive, life affirming entity that either of them had. He would make it better.

Hotch nodded, feeling her hair tickling his cheek, "that sounds good," he turned his head to kiss her temple, "that sounds really good."

Time spent with the two loves of his life . . . he tipped his head down to rest against hers . . . there was nothing better in the world.


	126. My Best Friend's Mistake

**Author's Note**: Garcia's reaction to Great Falls.

This chapter, the style, tone, was totally inspired by the prompt. So it's perhaps not as 'all encompassing' as maybe you were expecting it might be. It is a short chapter and it's all her POV, but again, it came to me in the style it did because of the prompt. I guess it sort of goes without saying, no fluff here. Perhaps a smidge next time around.

* * *

**Prompt Set #1**

Show: Reba

Title Challenge: Every Picture Tells a Story

* * *

**My Best Friend's Mistake**

"Okay, well . . . thanks for calling sweetie."

Garcia carefully hung up the phone and stared down at the floor for a moment. Then she brought her gaze up to look over the picture of the team she kept in the corner of her desk.

It was from Rossi's Fourth of July cookout. That had been a really good day, and that moment . . . that emotion . . . had been captured perfectly in the photograph in front of her.

Everyone was smiling.

Will had taken the picture so the whole team could be in it. And tears pricked Garcia's eyes now as she looked across their happy faces.

First Dave in his 'kiss the cook' apron with his arm slung around JJ's rapidly expanding waistline. Then Reid was on JJ's other side.

He had his mouth open.

Garcia remembered that he was yelling to Will to move two steps to the right so the group would be perfectly aligned in the center of the frame. Will had ignored him and the shot still came out perfectly.

Her eyes moved past Spencer, running over the red and blue streaks she remembered putting in her hair a day earlier. She could see the smudge of die on her temple.

Then her eyes came to the end of the row.

Derek . . . Emily . . . and Hotch.

She stared at the faces of her family, looked at Derek's hand on Emily's shoulder and Emily's arm looped through Hotch's.

The three of them together. The two men bound not only by their loyalty to one another, but by their love of the woman between them.

The tears began to pool in Penelope's eyes . . . but according to what Spencer had just told her, those bonds were now ripped apart.

Perhaps never to be rebuilt.

She placed the picture face down on her desk. It was too painful to look at right now.

'_What was he THINKING!? How could he leave her girl like that?!'_

The anger came rising up, and then instantly she felt the shame wash over her. Penelope knew in her soul that Morgan would never deliberately place Emily in harm's way.

But still, it was obvious that last night he'd made a serious error in judgment.

Hopefully . . . eventually . . . the team would move past it, but still she wondered how much of the damage would be permanent. Because given the anger that Garcia had heard in Reid's voice, it wasn't likely the others were going to forgive him quickly.

And the longer their anger lasted, the longer the recovery would be.

But their relationship with Morgan had always been different than hers. Not only was he her best friend, but the rest of them worked together in the field. That utter dependence on one another to stay alive was something that she could never truly understand.

So their anger was something that she'd never truly understand.

Therefore . . . no matter what he had done . . . it would be her job to be on Derek's side for as long as this lasted.

Garcia knew that Derek adored Emily and that he would be devastated if a tragedy befell her. And if that tragedy was due to some action . . . or inaction . . . on his part, he probably wouldn't recover.

Last night Emily had come this close to being taken from them . . . tears began to run down Garcia's face . . . and because of that Derek was now being shunned by the people he loved. The rest of them were dealing with Emily's near death together.

He was dealing with it alone.

That wouldn't do . . . that wouldn't do at all. Penelope picked up her phone and quickly dialed Derek's number.

Reid said that Morgan was flying home commercial but he hadn't known what flight. Still though, Garcia had a feeling that his plane hadn't left yet.

And she was right. He picked up on the fourth ring.

Though for a moment there was nothing but silence. As she counted the breaths, Garcia gently turned over the picture frame and ran her eyes down the row.

"You heard?" finally drifted through the line.

The pain in his voice was a dagger in her heart.

She ran her fingers over those last three faces, her voice breaking when she finally spoke.

"Oh Derek," she brought the frame to her chest "what did you do?"

* * *

_A/N 2: Many of you were probably expecting more in the way of the conversation between her and Derek. But I didn't really think there was anything more to say there. We've already spent time in Derek's head, we know what he was thinking. We know why he did what he did. And sometimes you try to add to a scene and all you're really doing is putting more words on the page, you aren't actually adding anything to the story. Therefore I stopped where I did for that reason._

_Someday I might actually write the story of Dave's infamous Fourth of July BBQ. I think it's the second or third time it's been referenced. I'm still (slowly) building on the Dave/JJ story surrounding Henry's birth and I think it comes up there too._

_Though I haven't done this in a very long time, I will once again throw this story up for "Choose Your Own Adventure." I'm doing this because we are down to (I think) the final ten. Ideally I will be able to get up all ten before Valentine's Day. I know production has been down, but that output is not unrealistic (even juggling other stories) just because most of the final 10 are already written and they just need to be polished up. _

_But as to this particular story arc, I will be wrapping it (in terms of major focus) in one more chapter. That will jump ahead to Morgan's first case back with the team. And there will be a little narrative recap there plus a specific Emily bonding moment. That's the rough version, not to say I won't add something to it but that's the guts of it. So is there ANYTHING else you people would like to see specifically addressed before I close the book on this story arc/this story? After all this time, it will be at least a year by the time I'm done, and many of you have been vested with me since the beginning so I don't want you to stick with me that long and then think 'oh yeah, it would have been a good story but for yada yada was a gaping hole'. So if you've got a yada in your head, let me know what it is. I think the majority of you have read The Hours so you know (generally) what happens in there. Yes, I will be beefing that up a bit but overall that storyline will stand. So this is about the last point in this stage of their lives in the main Girl'verse where I can add in anything. Therefore speak now or forever hold your peace! :) _

_I can't promise that I'll be able to work in ALL requests (depending on what I get) but if there's a point /character/background you feel is dangling I can certainly address it. Or if I'm already addressing it in an upcoming chapter I will let you know. And if you're requesting a whole conversation or scene then I will certainly do my best to accommodate. _

_That's all for this. I'd like to HOPEFULLY, get the Derek Returns chapter up by next weekend. But again, if you want to see anything more to this arc, let me know now before I move on to other things. _

_I've got two more stories in the Girl'verse (the companion to Pod People and the next 'verse C) that are SO close to done it's killing me! Barring some major upset I see no reason why they won't be up by mid-week. Hopefully earlier just because I want to get back to Communication Breakdown and wrap Gingerbread. _

_Oooh! And if you're interested in Three Long Mountains & A Wood, which I believe many of you are, that next chapter is about finished. It's a rather a complicated scene so I'm going to have it reviewed by a couple people before it goes up. But I say definitely before the end of the month that should be wrapped as well. _


	127. Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note**: I wanted to get this up earlier in the week but if you've checked my profile, you'll know I haven't been feeling well. And I can't focus when I don't feel well so I've been attempting to clean this up for over a week. I think it's a record for final review of anything this short!

This is the major close of the Great Falls storyline. It's Derek's first day back at work and it's done in a slightly different style than I usually do. Each segment is from a different character's POV and we stay with just that person. I thought that was the best way to close the loop here, to gauge where all of them were after the suspension was over.

Little side note for reality versus fic, in reality a 14 day suspension would have been fourteen business days. But, they often work weekends so I figured those should count. Therefore I decided to make it a flat 14 days straight to get him back to the office before they were really into December because I don't want to end this story right AT Christmas. I'd like to move into The Hours around mid December, so I consider this the first of the month.

* * *

_Early December: Friday_

**Picking up the Pieces**

Derek rolled over and turned off his buzzing alarm. It was the first morning he'd had to set it for the past fourteen days.

In the sudden quiet, for a moment he lay on his side, staring over and through the open bathroom door. He'd been dreading this day.

Going back to work.

He loved his job. But he loved his teammates more . . . and he'd missed them terribly. But he didn't know if they'd missed him.

And he didn't know if they wanted him back.

The only person he'd spoken to regularly the last two weeks had been Baby Girl. She'd shown up at the airport to pick him up that first day home. He'd specifically told her not to, that he was fine and would get a cab. But she'd of course ignored him, hacked the system . . . and even without his airline or flight number . . . found out exactly where and when he was landing.

He'd never been happier to see her.

She'd hugged him. That was it. She didn't tell him it was okay, or things would get better or that they'd get over it. Though those were the standard platitudes, in actuality they would have been the worst possible thing to say to him.

Because it wasn't okay, things might not get better and there was a distinct possibility that they would _never _get over it.

And Garcia might not have been a field agent or a profiler, but she knew all of those things as well as he did. So she just held his hand as they walked back out to her car. Then she brought him back to his apartment, and despite his protest, walked him to his door before she gave him another hug. That time she held on too long . . . but not long enough . . . and then she kissed his cheek and said goodbye.

In that moment . . . when she pressed her lips to his skin . . . he'd felt a wave of love for her. Not romantic love, but still, he'd felt the emotion so deeply that the words nearly passed his lips.

But fortunately he caught his tongue.

With all of his other problems he didn't need to start confusing things with Penelope. He'd of course known that for a long time her feelings for him were of a different nature than his were for her. But now she was happy with Kevin, and that relationship was still fairly new so Derek didn't want to cause her any upset. Or worse, actually take advantage of her giving nature just because he was hurting and wanted to feel better.

Not that he had ANY intention of doing such a thing. But of course he'd had no intention of nearly getting Emily's throat ripped open either.

Sometimes things happen.

And he didn't want a kind hearted Garcia trying to offer him comfort as a friend, to be confused in his mind . . . a mind that he knew still at his age, too often equated affection automatically with sex . . . as an offer for something more. Then he'd end up doing something COLOSSALLY stupid.

God knew he'd already done enough colossally stupid things this month. Enough to last a lifetime.

Still though, he was grateful for her attention. Though he had needed the time by himself to process what he'd done . . . to make some sort of peace with it . . . he had still been lonely.

Being utterly alone will do that.

But she'd called him every day. Sometimes he answered, sometimes not, but it was enough that she reached out. And she always reached out with the same message.

_Just checking in, just wanted to make sure that you're okay._

If he didn't feel like picking up the phone he'd send her an email, but either way he always responded to her concern the same way.

_Thanks for calling, I promise I'm fine._

It was a lie . . . clearly he was _not_ fine, he'd almost gotten Emily killed . . . but as he knew that _Garcia _knew that it was a lie, he didn't feel there was any dishonesty there.

So there was Penelope . . . he got out of bed and started towards the bathroom . . . she'd been trying. She'd made a real effort. But that was basically it for attempts at normal relations from anyone on the team.

JJ had called once though. It was the Tuesday after he'd gotten home . . . Day Five of his suspension.

Apparently the telephone game worked a bit more slowly when you were on maternity leave. He'd seen the caller ID . . . and though he'd known what was coming . . . he also knew that he might as well get it over with.

And she gave it to him with both barrels, telling him that he was a selfish jerk and reckless and pigheaded and that he should have been listening to what Hotch had been trying to tell him all these years. Then she said that he'd been lucky that Emily hadn't ended up on a slab.

Her voice had caught on the last word . . . slab. The imagery had been so horrible that he too had blanched when she said it.

For a moment there was silence before she'd started to cry and his heart began to twist. And then she'd asked him if he was all right, if he needed anything.

His own eyes had filled with tears as he told her that what he needed was for things to be like they were before.

For reasons that he himself didn't understand, with Penelope he lied . . . but with JJ he told the truth. But from her first day Little Girl had never let him get away with anything . . . it probably came from growing up with so many brothers . . . so she would have called him on his crap.

Garcia wouldn't call him on his crap . . . she'd let him lie because that's what he needed to do. And perhaps the difference really was a simple as that. He derived comfort from both of them for different reasons.

And when he hung up with JJ he felt like things were okay. Even if they weren't quite normal, they'd been honest, and she wouldn't be back for a little while so there was time for that wound to heal over.

With JJ he had time. But with the others . . . he started brushing his teeth . . . the clock had been ticking. And the more days that had passed without any contact from them, the more nervous he'd become about his return.

Then two nights ago he had a call from Reid. Derek had greedily reached for the phone . . . that was one person who had already unleashed on him in Montana so that part of this process was done . . . but Spencer was gone before Morgan finishing saying hello. Though he'd been bitterly disappointed, at least he had hope there.

That the kid wanted to try.

Then last night Hotch had sent him an email confirming that he was coming back today. It was very formal and professional. But Hotch was always formal and professional so Derek could glean nothing from his state of mind. All he knew for sure was that Hotch had initially told him that after the two weeks they'd put this cluster behind them.

Derek knew Hotch didn't lie, but the man had made a decision with his head that night by the cabin, and Morgan wasn't sure if his heart had been consulted. And given his feelings now for Emily, if his head and his heart weren't in agreement then Morgan knew that he was still on the outs.

That damage could be permanent.

In the fourteen days there had been no word at all from Dave or Emily.

Dave clearly had a soft spot for Hotch and Emily, so his allegiance on that front was to be expected. Though Morgan also knew that Dave was old school. Not inclined to hand holding or talking about his feelings, so it's possible that he had forgiven him and just hadn't felt the need to discuss it.

So Dave was a bit of a mystery. And Emily, well, Derek knew that she needed time. And though part of him had hoped that maybe they could talk before he went back . . . at least so he could gauge where things stood . . . he certainly wasn't going to reach out to her again after she'd made her feelings on that point abundantly clear.

She'd get back to him when she was ready to get back to him, and that's all there was to it.

With a heavy sigh, Derek stepped into the shower and began to mentally prepare for his day.

/////////////

Reid sat at his desk anxiously twisting his paperclips into contorted little balls of metal.

Derek was coming back today and he hadn't decided how he felt about that yet. Though Reid desperately wanted things to be like they were before, he was worried that they wouldn't be.

That in his heart that he wouldn't move passed what had happened.

But every time he'd looked at Derek's empty chair he'd feel a pang in his chest . . . he missed his friend. But then a second later, a different empty chair would pop into his mind . . . Emily's . . . and that sense of loss . . . the weight of the tragedy that had been narrowly averted . . . would come roaring back again.

Anger . . . betrayal . . . sadness . . . regret.

All of those warring emotions . . . which really came down to his heart and his brain trying to make him choose who he loved more . . . were tearing him up.

And usually if he had a problem and needed to work something out, he went to Derek or Emily.

The irony there was bitter.

But he'd come to lean on them so much for so many things. Even with all the classes that he'd taken, and all the big numbers in his IQ, he still just wasn't very good with interpersonal relationships. They were complicated and messy, and so hard to navigate.

His childhood had been so screwed up that he didn't learn the social skills that most people did through their formative years. In fact, until he landed at the BAU, Reid had never had so many people that held such importance in his life. For years it had just been him and his mom. Of course he'd had a few friends and teachers over the years that he'd felt some connection with, but nothing like the family that he'd found here.

Six people that he would throw himself in front of a bullet for.

Six.

That was probably the sum total of all the other notable relationships he'd had in his previous twenty-five years on the planet.

But now he was faced with having to choose . . . even though he was trying so hard not to . . . who he loved more, where his loyalties truly did lay . . . it was just awful. Awful for everyone really . . . the team felt fractured.

Dave was quiet . . . no jokes. Jordan, well she'd had a rocky start anyway and . . . despite her early flirting with Derek . . . she really had no strong loyalties to him or Emily. So basically she'd just been keeping her head down and her office door shut.

Emily had been sad and Reid couldn't think of anything to do to cheer her up. Really, there was nothing. And if there _was_ anything, Spencer was sure that their boss had covered it already.

Since they'd been home Hotch had been hovering over her. He came to get her for their breaks, when before it was usually the other way around.

And Garcia, next to Emily she'd really been in the worst shape. She actually seemed to be even more torn up than Reid himself was.

The first day back . . . the first morning really when they all converged at the coffeemaker . . . Garcia had stopped short when she'd seen Emily.

The expression imprinted on her face was clear . . . guilt. Like somehow her allegiance with Derek had made what happened in Montana her fault as well.

Of course it wasn't. But Reid's own head was . . . is . . . pretty messed up. So he understood where she was coming from.

Emily being Emily she also immediately seemed to understand what Garcia was thinking. The two women had stared at each other for a moment before Emily gave her a sad smile, picked up her coffee and patted the other woman's arm.

Then she'd walked away.

Hotch stood there for a second longer twitching his jaw as his eyes dropped down to the ground. When he looked back up at Garcia Reid couldn't read the expression on his face . . . that book was closed . . . but then he turned and . . . also without a word . . . followed Emily over to her desk.

That's when Spencer had realized how much of a mess this really was.

It's not like he thought Hotch or Emily harbored any resentment or anger towards Garcia . . . that would have been ridiculous. Derek alone was responsible for his actions. And the two of them were too evolved for such small thoughts.

No, the problem that morning was that Garcia was a connection to someone that . . . at that moment in time when things were so raw . . . they wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

She was a reminder of him.

Garcia looked after them for a moment, and then she'd started to cry. And not knowing what to do, Reid had stood there in the break room like an idiot.

Finally he opened his mouth . . . God still is the only one that knew what he was going to say . . . but she cut him off with a flapping of her hand before she hurried out of the glass doors.

Her coffee was still sitting on the counter.

That was the first day. The first day had sucked.

The subsequent days had sucked too, but things had slowly gotten better since then. He'd even seen Emily and Garcia talking in the cafeteria this week, and since then that awkwardness in their interactions seemed to have faded away.

Time passed quickly.

Before Reid knew it D Day (Derek Day) was arriving. He'd even tried to call him the other night. He just wanted to see what it was like to talk to him again.

Would he still be pissed at him? Would he still want to punch him in the face like he'd wanted to do that night in Montana?

It was hard to stay actively angry with someone. It really took effort. And he had so many more important things going on with the tragedies of their work, that staying angry past the point where apologies had been made and penance had been suffered, seemed petty and small.

Even more so when that anger was being directed at someone that you cared about. So he thought (hoped) that he really was ready to let it go.

But as he looked between the two empty chairs across from him, and Hotch's darkened office above, Reid was starting to wonder if anybody was even _coming_ to work today. Maybe his forgiveness wouldn't even matter.

With a sigh he shifted his eyes across his desk and picked up the first file he saw in his box.

'_Might as well keep busy.'_

/////////////

Seeing that the alarm was about to start buzzing, Hotch leaned over Emily and snapped it off.

She could sleep for a few more minutes. He'd actually been awake for the last half hour. Today was the day that Derek came back to work and he was trying to decide how he really felt about that event.

He'd promised Morgan that it would be okay, that they'd put it behind them after the suspension, but now Hotch was worried that maybe he'd been fooling himself.

Two weeks was a long time . . . and yet given what had nearly happened to Emily . . . no time at all.

But he had to admit that more than once he'd gone to say something to Derek in a meeting before he remembered that he wasn't there.

His absence could not be ignored.

Because really, they weren't just a team . . . or a family . . . they were a machine. A collection of parts that allowed things to run smoothly and efficiently under the worst of conditions and the most horrible of cases. So if any one of them was missing, everything was off balance.

It had been bad enough losing JJ a few weeks ago but without Derek things had just been . . . strange.

And the more he thought about what happened and compared it . . . judged it . . . against everything that had happened with Derek over the years, Hotch knew that he couldn't let THAT moment . . . the moment where Derek made that horrible mistake . . . be the defining moment in their relationship.

Because really . . . THIS one was.

THIS, today, his return, was the moment where they all had to decide for themselves if Morgan's one terrible lapse in judgment could truly negate all of the good that had come before it.

And Hotch knew that if any of them possessed even a scrap of character what the intellectual answer to that question was. But it was the emotional answer that was worrying him, not the intellectual one.

You could know that you were being petty and small, and you could know that it was wrong to feel that way.

But sometimes you just couldn't help it.

Oh well . . . he closed his eyes for a moment . . . really he wasn't going to know how he felt about Derek's return until he actually saw Derek in the flesh.

If he wanted to deck him, then, well, he'd know it was a bad idea.

Trying to push thoughts of Derek aside for the moment, Hotch looked down at the woman in his arms. It was Friday and this was the third time this week that he'd woken up in bed with her. And it was admittedly getting harder to keep from blurting out all of the things he wanted to blurt out. The more this became routine, the more he knew that this was just the way things should be.

Always.

Not to say his doubts about screwing things up had completely faded . . . if they had then they would have woken up this morning with a hell of a lot less clothes on than they were wearing right now.

But . . . he kissed her temple . . . things were good. And he was sure that soon they would be better still.

His eyes shifted over to the clock again and he realized almost ten minutes had passed. They were going to be late if they didn't get up soon.

The thought came to him and then he said fuck it.

He was the boss . . . they could be late.

So he fixed the blankets around Emily's shoulders, pressed a kiss to her forehead and cuddled her close to his chest. Then he lay there for another eleven minutes staring over her head at the little red numbers as they ticked higher and higher.

If only they could stay in bed all day.

But . . . he slowly exhaled . . . they couldn't play hooky on Derek's first day back. Really they couldn't play hooky period.

Aaron Hotchner was not a man that just stayed home from work for no reason.

Though as a still sleeping Emily murmured something against his throat, he really couldn't think of a better reason to stay home than what he was doing right now.

Unfortunately he knew that the FBI would disagree, so as the twelfth minute passed, he finally tipped his head down and whispered in Emily's ear, "sweetheart, it's time to wake up."

If they got up within the next ten minutes they wouldn't be late for the briefing. As it was now he just planned on shooting Dave a text that Emily had car trouble and he was picking her up.

It was a plausible reason to be late.

As he rubbed her back, Hotch felt Emily stir against his chest and he knew that she was waking up. Then suddenly she stiffened in his arms and he knew that she had remembered what day it was.

That was the reason that he'd specifically slept over last night even though he was running out of clean clothes in his ready bag.

He kissed the top of her head as he murmured a, "good morning," and then he felt her shifting around and she pushed herself up to look down at him.

"Good morning," she said softly.

Her greeting wasn't accompanied by the usual bright smile he'd become accustomed to getting from her as he started his day. The smile was there, but it was small and tentative.

It made him sad.

So he brushed her hair back as he whispered, "you can be angry as long as you want. Today's just another day on the calendar."

Hotch had seen that as this day approached she'd become more and more anxious. In addition to her own conflicted feelings about what had happened, he knew that she felt an added pressure to let things go for the sake of the team.

But she shouldn't feel that way.

The team was his responsibility . . . she was only responsible to herself. And her betrayal had been great. It wasn't something that could necessarily be brushed aside simply because a buzzer went off.

Life was not so simple.

Her eyes caught with his, he saw the moisture there and his stomach clenched. Just as he reached for her she pulled back and pushed herself off the bed.

"I'm going to get in the shower. Would you please start the coffee?"

Her voice was husky and he winced at the pain he could hear as she turned and hurried out of the room.

Hotch stared at the closed door for a moment, listening as the water began to run. Then he sighed as he swung his feet to the carpet.

'_God, what are we going to do?'_

/////////////

Garcia patiently waited in line at Starbucks.

She'd gone in early, saw that nobody was around but Reid, and decided to step out and get a latte. On her way to work Garcia had tried to call Morgan but there was no answer at his house. She'd been calling to see if he wanted a ride.

But as the voicemail clicked on she suddenly realized that she was being stupid and hung up without leaving a message.

He was a grown man, and more than capable of driving himself to work. And he might not have appreciated the insinuation that he wasn't.

Really it was just for her own peace of mind that she wanted to do it. She was worried about him. Worried that enough time hadn't passed yet.

Worried that he would still be on the outs.

Of course she was under no illusion that things would be normal today. Of course not. They were going to be awkward as hell.

She and Emily had talked a few days ago. Em had actually come to get her, which was a bit of a shock, Emily hadn't taken a break with anyone but Hotch in months. But she'd come to her cave and asked her to go to the cafeteria with her. And she'd bought her a soda and a bag of chips and they'd sat in silence for a few minutes at a table in the corner of the caf. Finally Emily cleared her throat and told Garcia that she couldn't promise things would be okay when he came back . . . but that she was trying to forgive him.

Then her eyes had gotten watery as she said that the empty chair made her sad.

Garcia also began to tear up as she responded that she understood . . . that empty chair made her sad too.

After that things were at least normal between them again. Garcia of course knew that she hadn't been blamed for Derek's actions . . . but a certain amount of time had to pass for Emily to begin to feel comfortable with her again. Because everyone knew that Garcia had been talking to Derek regularly.

That she'd chosen his side because somebody had to.

Now today she would find out if she was going to be staying out on that limb with him alone.

The line moved and Garcia stepped up to the counter, "veinte peppermint mocha please," she paused before adding, "extra whip."

Yes, it was an extra 300 calories but . . . she sighed as she began digging out her wallet . . . what the hell.

She passed the girl her card . . . it was going to be a long day.

/////////////

Rossi sighed as he stood on the catwalk looking down across the bullpen.

Even though it was after nine thirty, of his entire team, only one person was visible. Reid was at his desk pretending to look over the file in front of him. Rossi could see the tension in his shoulders.

He was nervous.

Hell, they were all nervous. That's why Hotch and Emily were late. Car trouble his ass.

They were putting off the inevitable for as long as possible.

Of course Dave didn't really blame them for that. This had been a hard time for them. Emily of course had it the worst, but Hotch's feelings for her . . . feelings which were becoming more transparent to Dave all the time . . . had made this much harder for him than it would have been otherwise.

If the two of them were random field agents, then Hotch would have some distance from the situation. This would simply be a professional matter . . . not a personal one.

Well, it still would have been personal . . . the betrayal of a fellow field agent was intimate . . . but it wouldn't have cut quite so deep.

As furious as he himself had been in Montana, after a few days Dave had slowly begun to forgive Derek for what he'd done. They all had their demons. Morgan was just unfortunate enough to have had his follow him to work that day.

But Rossi was sure that those particular demons were now firmly chained up in the basement. They wouldn't be coming to work with Morgan again.

Seeing two of the subjects of his musings walk through the door, Dave nodded his hello from across the room.

As they walked closer, Hotch tipped his head back and Emily gave him a little wave.

She looked nervous and he looked . . . well, he looked like it was taking every iota of his concentration to not LOOK like anything at all. But Rossi's eyes followed Hotch's hand as he passed Emily to go up to his office.

His fingers had glided over her back . . . he was worried about her.

Now that two of the three main players had arrived, Rossi turned to go into his office to get his notebook. The briefing started in five minutes. And Derek's first stop this morning was HR so most likely they wouldn't see him until the case review had actually begun.

And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, just after Jordan had finished her first review . . . they were tagging items to keep on the radar . . . Derek suddenly appeared in the doorway of the conference room.

If Emily had looked nervous, he looked terrified.

Catching sight of the man in the doorway, Jordan's voice faded away and everyone turned to look at what had caught her attention.

There was silence. Then Dave watched as Morgan cautiously stepped over the threshold, pausing just inside the door.

It was clear he didn't know where to sit . . . or if he was even welcome to do so.

And for a moment Rossi wasn't sure that he was welcome either. Everyone was just staring . . . himself included.

Finally Hotch remembered his role . . . leader . . . and cleared his throat, "welcome back Derek."

The tone was even. Polite.

Normal.

Okay . . . Rossi tapped his pen against his notepad . . . one down.

One to go.

His eyes shifted over to Emily . . _. everyone's_ eyes shifted over to Emily.

She was staring at the table. Dave could see her twisting her jaw, considering the moment. Considering her capacity to not only forgive, but more importantly . . . to forget. And Dave could also see how much Hotch wanted to reach out and touch her. His arm was practically vibrating on the table.

But it stayed there.

This part she had to do alone. She had to decide for herself if she was ready for all of them to let this go. Because nobody was under any delusions, Emily was calling the shots here.

Until she forgave Derek, things were going to stay in this limbo of uncertainty and awkwardness.

If it went on too long though, Dave knew that they wouldn't recover. The damage to their relationships would be permanent.

After a few seconds her eyes shifted up . . . first to Hotch . . . then to Morgan.

That moment where she stared at Derek seemed to go on for an eternity.

Finally she gave him a nod before her eyes dropped back to the table. She picked up the last case file . . . Morgan's copy . . . and dropped it in front of the chair next to hers.

Dave's expression softened . . . good girl.

Relief blossomed on Derek's face before he hurried over and sat down. She didn't speak to him but sometimes actions say more than words can, and everyone understood what was happening here.

Forgiveness.

There was another moment of silence as the others slowly took turns nodding hello to Derek and he tipped his head in return. Though Dave knew that Morgan had been missed . . . he was a part of them . . . Dave also knew that there would be no boisterous greetings heralding his return today . . . not after what happened.

They were simply moving on.

As evidence Dave watched as a second later Hotch prompted, "Agent Todd?" and when her head snapped up he asked quietly, "what's next?"

A sad smile touched Dave's lips as he looked down and opened his folder.

'_They would be all right.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: And we close with Dave the All Seeing. I thought he worked best for the only scene with all of them together. He's the one that could read all of them objectively and know what was happening in their heads. _

_When I was trying to decide how they'd all be dealing with his absence, that empty chair thing kept coming back to me. It's hard when your everyday people go away. Even if they go away due to their own screw ups. So I saw that as being the catalyst for forgiveness for Emily and Reid. And Hotch, I thought he was right that after so many years together, you couldn't banish someone for one horrible mistake. That the real test of their relationship wasn't so much what Derek did, but how they all handled that moment. _

_I didn't cover JJ directly because she's not present for the morning's events. And Jordan, well I promise I didn't skip Jordan just because I hate her :) I think I said to Chiroho when he drily commented on her lack of appearance in the prior Great Falls chapters, she's just the temp! Seriously, who cares if the temp hates your guts? So I didn't really think that 'deep thoughts' from her would add anything at all to this chapter. But I did add both of them for perspective._

_And leaving Emily out was deliberate. At first I had planned on including her in the Hotch segment, but it started to feel like a rehash of the thoughts I'd given her in the prior scene she had with Morgan the day after the incident. And then I decided (after I got stuck) that maybe leaving Emily's feelings a mystery until the end might be a good exercise. You could only glean her feelings from the observations of the others. That way her reaction to Derek's return was something the reader found out at the same moment Derek did. I think I liked how it pulled together, hopefully you weren't disappointed :) _

_If it helps, the next chapter (the final one where this story arc will be referenced) will be heavy from Emily's POV. Something happens that will allow Morgan to step up for Emily. And it's not another big dramatic action sequence (those take real effort to write) so let that go! But there are other little dramas in life where you need help and that will be one of those. A few people have commented, or made a request, that it would be good to see another field scene where Derek is put in a similar situation and he makes a different choice than he made in Montana. Something to really prove that he did learn his lesson. And you know I would like to do that, it would bring things full circle, but I'm not sure it's really possible to fit it in because they're only a few weeks from Hotch benching the team when he finds out Emily's sick. But I have thought that maybe somewhere later in The Hours I might be able to work a moment, or at least a memory, to cover that definitive development in his character was permanent._

_This got done because I had a little focused burst of energy this morning. I'm not sure if that was just a temporary thing or if I'm on an upswing. But I do have chapters in two other stories THIS close to being postable. So they'll either be up in a day or so, or whenever. Sorry. It's the best I can do. Whenever I say shortly something happens that makes a liar out of me._

_**Total side note**__: I started a new spinoff of Girl! I already have nine stories going and that's plenty of WIPs so you won't see it for awhile :) not until I get the other Girl spinoffs wrapped. But this new one will take place after the events of the season two finale. After Emily finds out she's a plant but before Hotch gets suspended. Something terrible happens to the two of them that totally changes the course of all other events. It's called "Blessed Are the Peacemakers" and I have a couple chapters done so hopefully we'll be in a place where I can get it up by Spring._


	128. Your Life Is Now

**Author's Note:** This would be a bonus chapter that I had forgotten I'd written. I was going through the Girl master this week (the master is 857 pages) looking for lost orphans and I found it hiding in the back. The base draft wasn't entirely necessary to forward the close of the Girl plot, I could have saved it for another story. But I figure after all the angstiness of late I figured one snippet that's nothing but a romantic piece couldn't hurt anything, right? Right :)

So this would be the Tuesday night following Derek's Friday return to work. For a change they're at Hotch's.

* * *

_**Early December: Tuesday**_

**Your Life Is Now**

"Take off your shirt."

Hotch blinked at Emily's command before his head slowly rose up in surprise, "excuse me?"

He was trying to do a final review on his weekly report, generally he kept his clothes on for this task.

"Aaron," Emily sighed in exasperation as she pushed herself up from the couch, "it's _obvious_ that you're in pain. Now take off your shirt, lay down on the floor and I'll rub your back."

Hotch had gone sparring with Morgan late that afternoon and since she'd arrived with him back at his apartment after work, he'd been wincing every time he reached over to pick anything up.

This included his fork full of mashed potatoes.

Of course when she asked if he was all right he said that he was "_absolutely_ fine." The "absolutely" was a bit 'protesteth too much,' so since dinner she'd been eying him from the couch as she half watched NCIS.

And her observations had shown that he was rolling his shoulders like every five minutes and his hand kept sneaking around to rub his lower back.

She might have thought that he . . . both empirically and physically . . . was the hottest thing since sliced bread, but he wasn't a young man anymore. And his need to pretend that he was (even if only to himself) seemed rather ridiculous.

Also, she knew that the sparring today had been mostly about her so she was trying to do what she could to thank him for what he'd done.

Busted up his nearly fifty year old body all in defense of her honor.

About to protest yet again that he was 'absolutely fine,' Hotch opened his mouth . . . and then he saw the look that Emily was giving him.

He might have won the earlier fight with Morgan, but Emily was definitely about to kick his ass right now. And given how shitty he felt, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do much to stop her.

So he closed his laptop as he huffed out on a sigh, "fine."

The only upside of that brutal workout with Derek was that the last of the pent up anger was released. He'd wanted to beat the shit out of him that first night, but at that point he was honestly afraid that he would have killed him. Today was just . . . balancing the scales.

And balancing in a controlled environment.

Their interactions had been a little awkward when Morgan first came back. But by the time they left the gym, things had almost felt normal between them.

But digging down that deep and channeling his residual anger was physically exhausting. And now he had a beautiful woman offering to give him a massage so he'd feel better.

A massage he'd been about to turn down.

Moron.

As he stood up, Hotch pulled off his t-shirt before he went over and lay face down on the carpet, folding his hands under his head.

"Whenever you're ready Inga," he called back over his shoulder.

Emily's lips twitched as she stared at him for a moment before she went over to straddle his back.

Her fingers began gently kneading his flesh as she murmured, "you call me Inga again and I will leave you a broken man."

He chuckled, "duly noted," right before he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

It was a little difficult.

Having Emily doing what she was doing was raising some contradictory feelings. Her climbing on top of him and rubbing her hands over his bare skin felt amazing.

So amazing that it was doing some things down below.

But fortunately he was exhausted enough that without too much effort he pushed that problem back down into the box.

A hard on wasn't going to help him get anything tonight besides blue balls. So there was no point in adding "sexually frustrated" to the list of his issues this evening.

So once he'd finished running baseball stats in his head, he focused his laser like concentration on the endorphins being released by the massage.

And then he started getting drowsy.

Emily rubbed her way up . . . and then down his back again, her eyes crinkling as she saw the muscles rippling.

He was in such good shape . . . her fingers pressed into the knot on his lower back . . . and hopefully soon she'd be able to get him half naked and do better things than this.

Slowly she worked her way up to his shoulders again, feeling the tension slowly leak out of him. He'd been quiet the whole time she was working, and she was just about to ask him how he was feeling when she noticed his breathing and she smiled.

He'd fallen asleep.

Her hands stilled as she debated what to do . . . well, obviously she could get up.

But . . . a second option popped into her mind and that one was much more appealing. So she went with door number two, shifting so she could lay down on top of him.

She put her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes. And feeling his warm skin she sighed, turning to kiss his neck as she wished this half naked Hotch mattress thing was a regular sleeping option.

Someday hopefully it would be. But in the meantime . . . she reached up to take one of his hands in hers . . . she'll just rest her eyes for a minute.

///////////

When Hotch woke up it took him a second to figure out what he was doing on the floor. Then he became aware of the warm body pressing down on him and his eyes crinkled.

Emily.

Apparently they'd both fallen asleep. And as happy as he would be to sleep with the pretty girl blanket on top of him, the reason he woke up was because the warm body was shivering.

She was cold in the middle of July and it was now December. Even though he'd turned the heat up for her . . . and she'd changed into his sweatpants and hoodie as soon as they walked into his apartment . . . she was clearly cold again.

His eyes shifted up to the cable clock to see that it was after midnight.

Fortunately the plan had been for her to stay over, otherwise he'd need to wake her up now to get her home. But as they were in for the night he wanted to let her sleep, so he did his best to slide out from under her without waking her up.

And though she murmured as he moved her over to the carpet, her eyes stayed shut. The flickering glow of the television was the only illumination in the room as he looked back down at her, his expression softening as he ran his finger down her cheek . . . so beautiful. He pressed his knuckles against her skin and his eyes crinkled . . . and so cold.

Pushing himself up, he stretched and rolled his neck . . . that massage had done wonders, as probably had the warm body acting like a heating pad . . . before he slipped one hand under her back and one under her legs.

As he picked her up off the carpet, her eyes opened and she looked at him blearily for a second before she murmured, "I'm cold."

His lip quirked up as he pulled her more tightly against his body, "I know sweetheart," he whispered, "but we're going to bed and you'll be warm in a minute, okay?"

She gave him a sleepy smile, "okay," and then she closed her eyes again and turned her face into his chest.

Hotch's eyes stung as he looked down at her . . . God . . . she trusted him so completely.

It worried him sometimes that he wasn't worthy of that trust.

Someone gives herself to you completely and you can hurt them so easily. And he knew how badly he'd hurt Haley. She had loved him, but he already had come to see that his bond with her was never as strong as the one he'd already formed with Emily.

Which meant for as much pain as he'd caused his ex-wife . . . as much pain as they had caused each other . . . it would be so much worse if he and Emily got together and then it all fell apart later.

He leaned down to kiss her forehead . . . and he just couldn't bear the thought of hurting her. It was one more fear . . . he cradled her even closer to his chest as he started down the hall . . . that he needed to overcome.

After he carried her into his room, Hotch gently placed Emily on the bed before he pulled back the covers and picked her up again, moving her over to her own side. Then he pulled up the blankets and stepped back to look at her for a moment.

A faint smile touched his lips when he saw her in her sleep reach over to pat his side of the bed. He ran his fingers through her hair as he whispered, "I'll be right back sweetheart."

He went back out to the living room, pulling on his t-shirt before he checked the door and the windows. And then he turned off the television and went back to his room carrying both of their cell phones.

Their weapons were already in the bedroom. Out of habit because of Jack, they'd locked them up in the safe when they went in to change out of their suits.

Emily's phone went on her nightstand. And then he stopped and stared at it as he realized that even though they weren't . . . technically . . . romantically involved, nor did they live together, he really did think of it as 'her' nightstand. It was the one with her lamp on it.

The one she'd seen in the window in Georgetown the day they took Jack to the circus.

And his imagination couldn't comprehend the idea of loving any other. So he supposed in his mind no matter what happened . . . or didn't happen . . . between them, it would always be hers.

That thought brought up an unexpected wave of sadness.

Because he truly couldn't imagine anyone else . . . but how long could they go on like this? Another few weeks? A few months perhaps?

Maybe . . . his brow wrinkled . . . but to what end? At the end of the day . . . whenever that day came . . . he wanted to put a ring on her finger and spend the rest of his life with her.

But he kept pushing that day off. Waiting because of his own cowardice . . . all of the little fears. The little fears that were controlling his life even though he knew that for the happily ever after to come to them that he needed to say something.

Otherwise he would lose her before he ever really got her.

Things were going well with them now, but he also knew that there was a clock ticking. She wanted children. And whatever they were doing right now, he had come to see that at the very least . . . even if it wasn't official or declared . . . he had to some degree become her, well, her partner. He wasn't sure if that was the right word, but they were certainly more than just friends.

The friend threshold had been passed some weeks ago. And they hadn't yet moved to lovers.

So today . . . he crossed over to his side of the bed . . . they were happy in limbo.

But someday . . . probably someday soon . . . she was going to want more from their relationship. And what if . . . he stared up at the ceiling . . . he still wasn't capable of giving that to her? Then she might decide that limbo wasn't enough and that she needed to move on and find somebody who could her everything that she needed.

And what a fool he would be if he was still paralyzed with the fear of losing her, after she'd already been lost.

He knew that they were getting there slowly. But maybe slowly wasn't good enough.

Maybe things needed to start moving faster.

He set the alarm before he turned, pulling Emily back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her waist. Then he nuzzled her neck and whispered, "good night sweetheart."

The fact that he had all of these things with her . . . sleeping, cuddling, kissing . . . was what made it so hard to open his mouth.

Who wanted to rock the boat when there was so much to lose?

He lay there thinking and holding her for almost a half hour before he slowly started to drift off to sleep again. But then Emily started to stir and his eyes popped open once more as she patted his hand and murmured, "bathroom," so he loosened his hold on her waist so she could get up.

A minute later she stumbled back to the bed and he held the blankets up for her. As she climbed in, she gave him another sleepy smile before she spooned in front of him again. Then she turned her head and murmured, "good night honey," before she kissed him and her eyes fell shut.

As her lips pressed against his for that moment, Hotch's heart began to fill. That was her half sleep. Her true feelings. In the witching hour there was no doubt in his mind that she was already his.

His girl . . . his eyes began to burn . . . his Emily.

But . . . his earlier sadness came rising up again . . . he was being a complete fool if he thought that they could just go on like this indefinitely. Even if he didn't wake her up right now to tell her how he felt . . . a 'ripping off the band aid' approach that had some terrifyingly undeniable appeal . . . he needed to start taking some control over his future.

Their future.

Put up or shut up was fast approaching.

Okay . . . his brain began to whirl as he rubbed her stomach . . . time to stop fucking around. He needed a plan. It was time to man up . . . but what to do? So many times he'd had the perfect opportunity and he'd let it slip away. Clearly spontaneity wasn't his thing.

CHRISTMAS!

The word suddenly popped into his head. Christmas was in a couple of weeks, he'd tell her on Christmas. He'd get her a present . . . something ridiculously expensive, something that you'd never given to somebody who was just a friend.

A ring . . . the idea came as a whisper in the back of his brain . . . maybe he should buy her a ring.

The thought admittedly terrified him. He felt like he was going from zero to sixty with no stops in between.

But then he remembered that this right now . . . the sleeping together, the cuddling, the kisses goodnight . . . all of that was the stop in between. It had been months since they'd been at zero. What they had between them was a gradual build.

Not something that had come up out of the blue.

And the plan already was to tell her that he loved her and that he wanted to file joint tax returns with her for the next six decades. So a diamond would just be a tangible indicator of the verbal declaration.

Also, he had Jack Christmas Day so he and Emily would be alone for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. That would give them to talk and . . . he kissed her shoulder . . . perhaps other things.

A slight bit of anxiety started to worm its way into his stomach but he pushed it away. This was a good plan. He wasn't a coward by nature, and this situation with Emily was an anomaly that needed to be fixed. They needed to move forward.

Even if it did all fall apart . . . he felt an ache in his chest at the thought of it . . . they both deserved the chance to at least try. And waiting until Christmas would give him time to plan a perfect day. Because after all these years of lousy boyfriends treating her like crap, his girl most definitely deserved a perfect day.

His thoughts were broken as Emily coughed in her sleep and then she shifted and rolled over in his arms. He watched as her lashes fluttered and then she looked up at him. She stared blearily for a moment before her vision cleared and she asked huskily, "what's wrong? Why are you awake?"

She knew that he'd had nightmares on a few occasions since Montana. They both had really. But hers had mostly faded and she'd thought that his had as well.

He smiled as he brushed her bangs back, "nothing's wrong sweetheart," he said softly, "I was just thinking. You go back to sleep now."

Emily stared at him for a moment gauging the truthfulness of his statement . . . it was hard to profile after midnight even when she knew the subject as well as she did this one. But after a few seconds she decided that he was indeed just thinking. So she nodded, "okay," then she pouted slightly, "as long as you're awake could you please get me some Tylenol? I have a little headache."

That's what had woken her up. The same stupid headache she'd had off and on the last couple weeks. But she figured it was stress from the situation with Derek. And now that things were pretty much back on track with him hopefully it would go away soon.

Hotch's expression softened as he whispered, "of course," then he pushed off the blankets and padded to the bathroom to get her some water and pills. When he came back out she was sitting up, "thanks," she gave him a little smile.

His eyes crinkled as he handed her the glass and the two little capsules, "anytime."

And as he said the word he realized that he truly meant that . . . he wanted to take care of her and look after her.

Always.

As he went around to climb back into bed he felt a surge of confidence in his decision to tell her on Christmas. The fears were still there . . . but they weren't so scary. Not scary at all really when he compared them against the idea of losing her completely. And as she snuggled back against his chest he inhaled deeply.

A ring . . . yeah . . . his eyes stated to fall shut as he slowly let out his breath . . . that sounded like an excellent idea.

* * *

_A/N 2: The bare bones of this draft was just that Hotch is sore from a day at the gym, Emily gives him the massage, falls asleep on his back and Hotch picks her up and carries her to bed. Though it was loosely written for Girl like six months ago, that was a scene I could have punched into many stories. But again, I thought after all the drama of late something "nice" would probably be appreciated so I tailored it around them of this world. And it was an opportunity to let Hotch make a little mental progress on getting off his ass. Though on the flip side, putting this in at all I had to add a little concrete foreshadowing of her illness. Which will of course muck up all the other plans._

_If you've read Elegy (which is, fair warning if you haven't read it, quite sad) then you might have noticed the symmetry with Hotch's thoughts about the nightstand. I rarely recycle just because I'm feeling lazy :) To my mind there are always tangible things that represent your feelings for someone. And in Hotch's head, that nightstand has become hers. And the other story shows that in his mind it does stay hers._

_The one after this (the one I was planning on putting up next) will tie off the Morgan thread and then they'll have the big awful fight. But you don't have to dread it coming because THAT will lead to major progress in their relationship. What breaks in the beginning of the chapter will be fixed by the end. This is definitely the final countdown. I originally was going to insert the "women in law enforcement" holiday party into this story. Emily made reference to it in the 52 Pick Up chapter, but the way I'd written it originally (it has JJ and Will in it) lent itself to her being sick I've decided to move that over into a new segment in The Hours. So I THINK we're down to about a half dozen chapters left. The cool thing is, now that I'm adding more to The Hours, I think I'll try to cross off all of those Christmas prompts I didn't get to use yet. That story is already at 65 chapters, hopefully we won't surpass the epic length of Girl by the time we're done with the revamp. _

_I've got at least one more story getting an update today. But I have two waiting in the wings so I'll leave it as a surprise because I'm not sure which one I'll focus on yet. So really, it's a surprise for all of us :)_

_A little feedback always feeds the muse kids ;)_


	129. Things We Don't Say

**Author's Note**: Howdy children. Okay, this is what happened, the next regularly scheduled chapter, it was the damnedest thing but I just couldn't pull it together. It was that Morgan/Emily closing the loop thing and it's THIS close to done. But I can't get it to my personal satisfaction. And obviously if it's not to my satisfaction it's not going up. But clearly that was holding up the rest of the story. SO, I shuffled some chapters to give myself more time to try and get that sorted out.

Therefore you are getting The Big Ugly Fight chapters this weekend. And then I hope to hopefully sort out my issues with the other chapter and get that up later next week.

And Chiroho said I'm supposed to remind everyone that the voting on the CM fic awards closes tomorrow. He said I had to do that if I posted on Girl this weekend. So there you go :)

Side note: I discovered something today and I thought I'd share with the masses. If you use the Firefox browser they apparently have themes like igoogle does. You may have known this, I did not. But I started poking around and discovered the Firefox folks have TWO Criminal Minds ribbons! And one is the team picture last year with H/P front and center. They actually call them 'personas,' and that's my PSA for the day :)

* * *

**Prompt Set #13**

Show: Friends

Title Challenge: The One With the Red Sweater

* * *

_Early December: Thursday_

**Things We Don't Say**

He'd yelled at her.

He'd had a terrible day and they were walking to their cars and she'd made a joke. She was just trying to cheer him up. And usually it would have worked.

Any other day it would have worked.

But today, he was tired and hungry and his head hurt and his neck hurt and he was just in a foul mood, and he'd yelled at her.

He'd never done that before. Not really.

Not like this.

This was the stuff he kept locked up tight. The stuff he was afraid of getting out. And when he'd directed that bile at her for the first time . . . she'd physically recoiled.

Like he'd spit in her face.

And in that moment he would have done anything . . . given _anything_ . . . to take it back. But before he could apologize and beg her forgiveness, that look of hurt on her face . . . it had twisted to one of anger and betrayal. And then she spit back that he was a cold, emotionally damaged ass, and that she wasn't surprised that Haley had left him.

Never let it be said that one behavioralist didn't know just the right dagger to hurl at another.

All of their insecurities were an open book, and he'd winced . . . freezing for a moment as that arrow hit its mark. And it cut so much more deeply because it came from her.

Because she was the person that knew him best, she knew what would hurt him the most.

And then they were off and running.

Any thoughts of apologizing vanished from his mind as his own wave of hurt and fury came rising up. He told her that meant a lot coming from someone who had the emotional maturity of a twelve year old girl, and maybe she'd like to actually try having a relationship that lasted longer than a week before she made ignorant comments about the demise of a twenty year marriage. And he'd seen that had hurt her, but he couldn't stop. He was just so angry.

So angry he could see nothing but red.

But it was clear that's all she saw too, because she hit back stab for stab.

Their terrible words echoed in the empty parking garage until she'd taken one final . . . very cruel . . . parting shot, and stormed away.

Hotch was filled with pain and fury. Not only at what she'd said, but that she got the last word. And he thought about calling after her . . . he had one more dagger that he could have thrown to inflict the same pain on her that she just had on him. But then he took a breath and stepped back, realizing that they'd said more than enough already. So he spun on his heel to head home.

But still . . . even then in his anger . . . his steps suddenly slowed. And he couldn't help himself from stopping and looking back to make sure that she got to her car.

He stopped to make sure that she was safe, because no matter what had happened . . . no matter what awful things she had said . . . that _they_ had said, his conscience corrected . . . he still loved her.

And any other day when she got her to her car she would have looked back at him and smiled and waved. But this time . . . he swallowed as he watched her four spaces down . . . this time, she ignored him completely.

It was like he didn't even exist.

And that hurt worse . . . it cut _so_ much more deeply . . . than anything she'd actually said.

It hurt almost as much as it had in that first moment right as it was all going to shit. That instant when he'd seen the pain on her face and the tears in her eyes when he snapped and said that he was sick of her. Sick of how she couldn't take anything seriously . . . his eyes burned . . . and that she needed to grow up.

And from that one, horrible, totally thoughtless, completely false insult, they had come to this less than five minutes later. Both of them battered and bleeding from the barbs thrown by the other.

He watched her speed out with a pit in his stomach . . . but still she didn't look his way.

After her taillights disappeared down the ramp, he walked over to his car, fumbling with his keys for a moment before he got the lock. When he got in he stared down for a moment and then he smacked his head on the steering wheel.

'_YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!! HOW COULD YOU __**SAY **__THOSE THINGS TO HER?!'_

In his head he screamed at himself for the terrible . . . truly HATEFUL . . . things that he had said. It was that viciousness that he'd spent the better part of his life bottling up. Only occasionally letting a little bit of it leak out so he wouldn't explode.

But in those moments where it had risen up out of the dark, it had only ever been unleashed on the most inhuman of monsters.

That little bit of takes one to know one that made him so good at his job.

Not once though had he ever let a drop of that dark matter spill onto anyone he loved. And now what had he done?

Spilled it onto the woman he loved most in the world.

And every terrible thing he'd said had been untrue! Those weren't thoughts he'd ever consciously had, but they were coming up out of nowhere. These horrible things just kept coming out of his mouth and he couldn't stop!

For those few minutes he turned into someone else. Someone who terrified him.

His eyes began to pool . . . how could he be so cruel to someone he loved so much? It was a question he'd asked himself so many times as a boy as he listened to his parents fighting from behind his bedroom door. They would seem so happy . . . and then things would suddenly get very bad.

But now he could see how that darkness could rise up when his father drank. The alcohol caused him to lose his rigid, tightly wound control. A control that . . . for other reasons . . . Hotch himself had found necessary to maintain his balance all these years.

He too though had had his moments of weakness when ugly little things began to worm their way up. And the last time Hotch had said anything to Emily that he truly regretted had been that night in Vegas when they'd gotten so drunk.

Of course those little snipes had been nothing compared to what was spewed tonight. But still, he knew that he'd been a real jerk to her for no reason. And the next day he'd sworn that he wouldn't drink so excessively again because he didn't like the man he'd become.

A tear ran down his face . . . but apparently for this generation of Hotchners, alcohol was not a prerequisite to being a complete douchebag to the woman he loved.

Emily . . . there was a twist in his gust . . . the one who had saved him from falling into the abyss. The one person in the world next to his son that he wasn't sure he could live without.

He ground his fists into his eyes as he wondered for the thousandth time if he would ever get his shit together, or if he really would end up spending the rest of his life alone.

Though . . . he bit his lip . . . for all of his problems with Haley, they'd never had any fight that approached the ugliness of what had just happened with Emily.

Of course that was probably because unlike Haley, Emily had her own demons hiding in the dark. Waiting at the ready for just the moment they needed to rise up and protect her by slamming a guy's head into a wall, or pool cue into his throat, or . . . or . . .

He closed his eyes as he remembered the last thing she said to him. Then he shook his head as he pushed down the hurt . . . didn't matter. He'd started it. This was his fault.

Her fury had fed off of his.

But now that he'd fucked everything up so badly he wasn't even sure that she would forgive him for the awful things that he'd said.

His gaze dropped to the drink holders.

A second later his eyes began to water again as he saw the styrofoam cup sitting there with her lipstick on it.

The gloss was bright red, and he knew was it was from Tuesday when she wore the sweater.

That wonderful red sweater.

It was cashmere and at the start of the briefing when she walked in and he'd seen her for the first time that day, a wave of lust had come over him. It was a moment where he'd cursed himself for not having moved them forward already. Because in that moment all he'd wanted to do was take her home and peel the sweater off with his teeth. And when she sat down next to him he'd received whiff of her perfume . . . it was his favorite . . . and a second later he was whispering in her ear that it was too bad he didn't have a locker because she looked better than his Farrah Fawcett pinup ever did.

The blush had spread across her face as she reached under the table to squeeze his hand. And then Jordan walked in to set up her laptop and Emily had given him a shy smile as she'd quickly pulled her fingers back.

The ache in his chest began to squeeze his heart. He couldn't breathe.

Oh God . . . the panic rose up . . . what had he done?!

It took only a moment for his eyes to seek out Emily's chapstick in the unused ashtray and then he turned to see her green hoodie in the backseat. And he knew that if he opened the glove box he'd see her bottle of Tylenol, her bottle of Mydol and two boxes of Tic Tacs.

Sometimes she liked fruity flavors, sometimes she liked peppermint.

His fingers glided over the smudge of lipstick on the cup . . . his world was her world . . . they were intertwined now. And if he lost her he honestly didn't know what he would do.

His eyes fell shut and then a second later they popped open again as he came to a split second decision.

It didn't matter how bleak things seemed after what had happened. It didn't matter if it was a lost cause . . . he started the car . . . he had to try to fix this before it was too late.

She was his last chance.

////////////

Emily slammed her door shut, dropped her bag and burst into tears.

_Oh God! They'd been so AWFUL to one another! They were never like that!_

She'd realized in the car that he hadn't meant to snap at her. He'd looked as shocked as she was when those terrible words had come out of his mouth. But before he could say anything else, before he could apologize for being so mean . . . she'd lashed out.

He had hurt her . . . he had hurt her so badly . . . and she wanted him to hurt too.

And he had.

She'd seen the pain on his face at what she'd said about Haley. It was the first thing that came rising up and it just flew out of her mouth. And for a second she'd felt a burst of satisfaction that they were even. Even at the time she knew it was twisted . . . he was ordinarily the last person in the world she would ever hurt. But there was no time to stop and think about that because in the next instant he'd shot back something else to her and she was furious with him for taking such a low blow. So rather than taking a breath and calming them down, she just kept going, clawing at his insecurities and vulnerabilities, drawing blood again and again. All of the things that she knew about him, all of the things that he had trusted her with . . . she used them as weapons to attack him.

What kind of person does that to someone they love? Her gut ached . . . what kind of person was she?

It didn't matter that she hadn't meant any of those things she'd said. She'd still said them. And the most vicious thing that came out of her mouth was right before she walked away. She'd hissed that if this was how he could treat her after a bad day then maybe he was too fucked up to ever be a good father.

As Emily thought back to the look on his face she started to sob . . . how could she say such a terrible thing?! She knew even in that moment that was the worst thing she could have said to him. And still she hadn't taken it back because she was so pissed off.

She'd completely disconnected her intellectual knowledge of the pain she'd inflicted from the emotional empathy and guilt that would have normally followed.

It wasn't until she was halfway home that those lines reconnected and she felt the first wave of guilt. Because she knew that he worried so much about his relationship with Jack. He worried that he really was too emotionally repressed and screwed up by his job and his childhood . . . which he still wouldn't talk about . . . to be a good father.

Well . . . she pounded her fist down on the marble counter . . . he WAS a good father! He was a great dad! And with her . . . except for the aberration of those six horrible minutes today . . . he was kind and gentle and always sweet.

As she thought back to him cuddling her when she was sad, and rubbing her back when she was hurting, the pain filled her heart . . . so very sweet.

And she'd been so MEAN to him!

That's when she'd walked away. As furious as she'd been . . . even though the guilt hadn't come until later . . . there was a part of her that knew she'd crossed the line. That Jack was off limits.

That she'd gone too far.

Her sobs became hopeless as she realized that there was a real possibility that he wouldn't forgive her.

This might not just be a horrible fight, their relationship could be damaged beyond repair. That would be . . . she took a heaving breath . . . oh God, that just couldn't happen!

At the knock on the door Emily jumped and then she furiously wiped her hands across her face, trying to stifle her tears as she checked the peephole.

When she saw who it was she started sobbing again as she cried, "OH!" and whipped the door open.

The tears ran down her face as she saw Hotch standing there. The sadness and regret were clear on his face as he rubbed his hand across his mouth.

This was the man that she was in love with, not that man she was screaming at in the parking garage. And he was here now and they could try to fix it.

Please God . . . she prayed . . . let me be able to fix it!

But as she stared at him, her eyes wide in panic, she had no idea what she was supposed to say. How was she supposed to take it all back?

A simple "sorry" didn't seem to cover it.

As Hotch looked at Emily across the threshold he lost his breathe for a moment.

Her eyes were red and puffy . . . she was crying.

His own eyes began to water . . . he had made her cry.

He was a complete bastard.

And he was frozen for a moment as they stared at one another, unblinking. Both of them waiting for the other to say something. Then she took a gasping breath and that finally broke his stance as he stepped over the threshold and picked her up.

Just as her arms went around his neck, his voice broke, "I'm so sorry sweetheart! I was so cruel and I didn't mean those things! I hope you know I didn't mean any of those terrible things! I just," his eyes started to water again as he pleaded, "I just couldn't stop it, but I hope you know that I would never deliberately want to hurt you," he shook his head, "I don't know what came over me."

Of course he did know what had come over him, but he was quite sure that this was not the time to tell her all of the horrors of his youth. Because it didn't really matter what had happened to make him such an emotional fuck up, that didn't excuse his actions. He'd spent half his life dealing with people that tried to excuse away the terrible things they did by blaming it on someone else.

And he always knew that it was bullshit.

Behavioral analysis and tracking back the damage that others inflicted on an UNSUB could determine HOW they got to where they did. But lots of people have shitty childhoods, many suffer greater abuse and torture than the men and women that his team had met over the years. And those individuals didn't grow up to kill people.

So even with all the psych courses he'd taken that tried to explain where the monsters came from, Hotch always came back around to the one truth he carried with him. Your behavior . . . good or bad . . . it's on you alone.

Nobody else.

Emily nodded, sniffling, as her arms locked tightly around his neck, "me too! I'm so sorry," her voice cracked as she began to sob again, "I didn't mean any of it! I was just so mad that you hurt me that I wanted to hurt you. But I don't know how I could . . . how I could . . ."

She was so upset that for a second she couldn't get the words out. And then they came in burst of emotion, "Aaron, you're such a good dad! And Jack's so lucky to have you! I'm so sorry I said what I did!"

Hotch was past the point of needing apologies from her. Though what she'd said had hurt, he knew that wasn't really Emily talking. And as she continued to sob on his shoulder over words that no longer mattered, Hotch's chest ached and he moved into the apartment, kicking the door shut with his foot. Then he clutched her tightly against his body as he murmured over and over into her ear, "sweetheart it doesn't matter, it was all my fault. Please don't cry," until her sobs started to subside.

But even then . . . even as he felt her hot tears turn from a flood to a trickle . . . he was afraid to put her down, afraid to let her go. But he knew that he couldn't hold onto her forever.

They would be okay or they wouldn't. One moment to the next didn't matter.

So he slowly lowered her to the ground and then leaned back so he could wipe the tears from her face.

Christ . . . the ball in his stomach twisted . . . he still couldn't believe he'd made her cry like this. If somebody else had hurt her that badly he would have killed him.

And as he ran his finger along her ruddy cheek, he asked quietly, "do you forgive me Emily?"

Emily nodded as she gave him a watery smile before she whispered, "always." And then she leaned up to press her lips to his before she put her head on his chest. And with that act . . . that salty kiss . . . the vice that was constricting Hotch's heart finally began to release. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he rubbed her back. Then he could hear Emily's muffled voice pressed against his jacket.

"Do you forgive me?"

A sad smile touched his lips as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, "of course sweetheart," he sighed as he pulled her tightly against his body, "always."

There was nothing she could say . . . nothing she could do . . . that would ever make him walk away. If she let him, he'd stay with her forever.

And as they stood there in the hallway, he just didn't want to leave. He wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he couldn't imagine his life without her. And that when he'd seen how badly he'd hurt her, that he felt like somebody had ripped his heart out of his chest.

He wanted to tell her all of those things but he just couldn't. Too much had happened tonight, there was no way he could spew that bile at her and then tell her he loved her in the next breath. It's not like they were already together and he'd be making up. This would be the first time he said I love you. And then they would always remember that the first time that he'd told her how he felt was the same night that he'd made her cry until he thought his heart would break.

Those were definitely NOT memories that he wanted to have intertwined.

So instead he slowly stepped back and his eyes crinkled as he caressed her cheek. Then he tucked her hair behind her ear as he said softly, "how about I pick you up early tomorrow and we go get breakfast before work? My treat."

Emily bit her lip as she gave him a still watery smile, "I'd like that."

God! Why can't she say something? Tell him Emily, tell him something. Tell him that you love him you idiot!

But she bit back the words. It wasn't the right time. She didn't want this horrible fight to be connected with what she hoped would be one of the best days of her life.

Hotch's lip quirked up slightly as he turned to leave. But as he put his hand on the doorknob, he suddenly stopped. And when he looked back, the fear was apparent in his voice, "we're really okay, right? Because if you're still upset with me, I want you to tell me," his voice caught, "even if you hate me Emily, I want you to tell me that too. Because I'll find a way to make it up to you, I swear. Whatever you want me to do sweetheart, I'll do it."

They couldn't start keeping secrets now. If she was still angry, then he needed to find a way to fix it.

At his plea, Emily's face softened as she reached up to touch his cheek, "Aaron I promise you that we're definitely okay. You forgive me, I forgive you," her eyes started to tear up again, "and now we'll put it behind us."

She'd love to wipe the last hour from her brain.

"Okay . . ." Hotch nodded slowly as he let out a breath, "okay," he opened the door and looked back at her.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30."

"Okay," she whispered back. And watching her blink the tears away again as she gave him a little smile, Hotch regretted all of the things that he couldn't say in that moment.

But then he thought of one thing that he could do.

Because even if it wasn't the time for the conversation, it was the right time to start moving them forward. So he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, first softly and then more insistently as his arms slipped around waist and he pulled her closer. By deepening the kiss, he was moving them passed their simple friendship kisses of the past, moving them passed the experiments, passed the drunken flirting, passed all of his fears . . . he was moving them into the future.

He clutched her to his chest, feeling her fingers fist in his jacket as he kissed her desperately, trying to start the conversation that he wasn't ready to have yet.

When he finally pulled away, he saw her lips were swollen and her eyes were wide as she looked up at him in surprise. And to his relief the other emotion he saw there was joy.

His fingers stroked gently along her jaw as he kissed her one more time. Then he gave her a faint dimple as he said softly, "good night my Emily."

And then he turned and stepped back into the hall.

It wasn't everything he wanted to say . . . but it was something.

Emily watched him go until he reached the elevators, then he turned back, raising his hand to her before he stepped into the car and disappeared.

A grin spread across her face as she slowly shut the door. And as she leaned back against the cold metal she felt another burst of joy in her chest as she whispered to herself, "I'm going to marry him some day."

* * *

_A/N 2: If you're old enough you'll probably agree that unless you're incredibly repressed, usually most really close relationships, people you spend a lot of time with, lover, family, best friend, at some stage you'll have a terrible fight (usually coming out of left field over something so stupid – I once had one over whose turn it was to do the dishes) and all the stuff you would never say just comes flying out of your mouth. And usually you don't even really mean it! It's like if you have PMS and you're just easily irritated and somebody says something totally innocuous and this little whisper of your subconscious will come back with the most UNKIND response! Like "God, I don't give a shit about your stupid problems at work!" Though this is somebody you really do care about, this mean thought pops in your head and sometimes it comes out of your mouth. And you think, "wow, that was a really jerky thing to say!" but sometimes you just keep going. But as you get older, generally you learn to clamp down on your tongue so you don't come off all psycho :) But it's that kind of moment where you know these thoughts aren't really how you feel, but somehow they're in there. One person says something to hurt the other and then your subconscious just starts digging and throwing back whatever it finds down in the dark. And I thought with these two, having both canon and this story having demonstrated they have some ugly stuff in the shadows, that if the covers came off those genies it would be a very bad thing. And generally a no holds barred fight is kind of a make or break moment for the relationship. It either brings you to another level, or it completely destroys it. Clearly for them it brings them to another level. _

_I thought the fight itself was vital to be able to move them on to the next stage of their lives. I actually wrote the initial draft of this like last summer but as Arcadya so wisely pointed out at the time, I couldn't really pull it together until I'd figured out where their relationship was at this point, friends or lovers. I hadn't written so many of the layers yet I didn't know what would work best. But I did know that they couldn't have sex here because they aren't fully 'together' until The Hours. And there was no way that they'd have sex randomly here and then not talk about what that meant. But I wasn't trying to artificially push off the conversation again, I honestly didn't believe that having the worst fight of their lives with all of that residual hurt and ugliness still floating, was the right moment to get into all the rest of it. Those would not be moments you'd want to link together. One you'd just want to forget, the other you'd always want to remember. But clearly Hotch is getting it together :) And there are only maybe four or five chapters left covering maybe another week or two. I actually have to write the last chapter, which is going to be a rewrite of the original opening of The Hours. That will work better as the conclusion here. _

_Again, the evening is not over yet. There's a companion chapter that picks up later that night. And as I was cleaning that one up simultaneous to this one, it's pretty much ready to go. So if you're good little doobies, and I think you all know what that means ;) I might be persuaded to try to get it up later tomorrow night._

_Next: __**"Things We Don't Do"**_


	130. Things We Don't Do

**Author's Note**: I almost forgot to put this up! But you guys more than pulled together for the feedback so I had to keep my end of the bargain.

This one is much shorter than the last. But as I said, it is later that night, and there wasn't that much night left to go :)

* * *

**Prompt #14**

Show: 30 Rock

Title Challenge: Retreat To Move Forward

* * *

_Early December: Friday_

**Things We Don't Do**

It was 1:17 when he got the call. She was crying.

"I had a bad dream."

Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Hotch pushed himself up and turned on the light, "what happened?"

Emily tried to wipe away the tears on her face, "the bullets went through your vest," her voice broke, "I dreamt that you died on the floor of that crack house!"

It didn't take a psychiatrist to see that her fear of losing him today had brought back her concrete fear of losing him in real life. She sniffled, "could you come over?"

Honestly she didn't know why she'd let him out of the house at all. She should have made him sleep over.

She should have kept him with her.

Hotch was already pushing the blankets back before she'd finished the question.

"On my way sweetheart," he said as he headed over to the dresser, "I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?" When he heard her sniffle back an, "okay," he snapped the phone shut.

He cursed himself as he pulled on his sweatpants . . . this dream was his fault. She hadn't had it in over a month and now today they have this terrible fight and it comes back.

That's not a coincidence.

After gargling quickly to get the sleep taste out of his mouth, he made quick work of yanking on his sneakers as he hopped to the living room. The last thing he did as the front door fell shut was reach back to grab his jacket off the hook.

It wasn't until he was in the car that he realized he'd forgotten his gun.

He didn't go back.

It was barely more than five minutes from the point that he'd hung up the phone that he was raising his hand to knock on the red door. All in all it was probably the fastest time he made to Emily's since that night they'd gone to the emergency room.

But tonight he didn't even have a chance to alert her to his presence.

Just as he was about to bring his fist down on the metal, the door opened and she stood in front of him . . . again with tears running down her face. Again he felt a stab in his chest because he knew he was responsible for them being there.

Though this time in a different way.

After stepping over the threshold, Hotch went through the same routine he did earlier in the night. He pushed the door shut with his foot, this time hitting the lock before he reached down to wrap his arms around her. Again, he picked her up and clutched her tightly to his chest.

This time he held on for dear life simply to show her that he was alive.

His heart broke as he felt her desperate kisses along his neck before she whimpered, "it was _so_ real Aaron! It was just like that night, every detail. We even had that same lousy cup of coffee in the squad room before we left. But then you kicked in the door and . . . and . . ." her voice cracked, "there was so much blood, and I couldn't make it stop," she started to sob, "don't ever die on me again!"

She'd had nightmares over the years, both before and after she'd joined the BAU. Terrible dreams that had her waking up gasping or crying. But this was one of the worst, even out of the versions of this dream she'd had before. She couldn't wake up, she could taste the bitterness of the coffee, smell the copper in the air, feel the stickiness of the blood on her fingers.

It was like slipping into an alternate world where everything had gone wrong.

A world where she had to go on without him.

"I promise sweetheart," he turned his face into her hair as he whispered, "I swear, I won't ever die again."

It wasn't a rational promise, but she wasn't in a rational state. That was simply what she needed to hear. And though her tears were tapering off, still she made no move to loosen her hold on him.

So he hoisted her up like he would Jack, waiting until her legs were locked around his waist and her arms around his neck before he started for the stairs.

With her still sniffling against his ear, he ignored his back as he carried her up the staircase, and then continued down the hall to her bedroom. He laid her down on the mattress before he kicked his sneakers off and dropped his jacket on the bench at the foot of the bed. Then he climbed in next to her, pulled up the blankets and turned out the light she'd left burning.

A second later he felt Emily climb on top of him, wrapping her body around his like a glove as she whispered in a husky voice, "I don't want to fight ever again, agreed?"

She knew that wasn't something they could really prevent. People fought, it was normal . . . healthy even. But maybe if they remembered this moment, how they felt right now, they'd be sure to never let things get as out of hand as they did today.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he kissed her temple and whispered back, "agreed."

After seeing the pain that he had caused her, he was sure that he'd never lose his temper like that again.

Not with her.

He hugged her closer . . . not with his girl. The next time that bile came rising up and she was in the vicinity, he was heading for the hills. He was only going to get so many chances and he couldn't fuck this up.

One more fight like that that could ruin everything.

Feeling that her t-shirt had ridden up, Hotch slid his hand underneath it so he could rub her bare skin. He thought the direct contact would be more soothing.

Even if it wasn't for her, it definitely was for him. It was a connection.

His hand slowly worked its way up her smooth skin, rubbing circles and patterns along the way as her shirt inched higher and higher.

Feeling Hotch's fingers gently caressing her skin, Emily started kissing her way along his throat and jaw, working up to his mouth. For just a moment she forgot that their relationship hadn't progressed that far, forgot that there were steps in between. Because in that moment she just wanted to make love to him.

To prove to herself that he was alive.

They both stopped at the same moment, Emily when she reached his lips and Hotch just as he was about to pull off her t-shirt. For an instant they were both frozen, their eyes were caught in the moonlight coming through the folds in the curtains.

And then Hotch pulled his hand back, leaning up to kiss her as he rolled her beneath him. And for a moment his tongue slid past her lips, tangling with hers as it had earlier in the night. But this time he didn't want to pull away.

But he knew that he had to.

When he looked down her eyes were wide and trusting. And he knew that this was the moment to tell her.

But he was so afraid.

Afraid that her reaction to him right now was simply fueled by her fear of losing him. Of course he knew that she loved him . . . that had been obvious to him for awhile now. And it had become more obvious to him over the past few weeks that her feelings for him were probably as strong as his were for her.

Her reaction to today's fight was proof of those feelings.

But was making love something that she really wanted right now? Or was she just trying to prove to herself that her dream was just a dream? Would she regret it in the morning? Would she think that they should have waited?

Waited for a moment that wasn't fueled by fear of death?

This was too important to screw up.

As had been proven to him this afternoon, the thought of losing her, losing what they had, was intolerable. It was better to wait, better tell her everything later when there was no fear that she'd regret her actions in the morning.

He wanted to make sure that their first time . . . and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that there would be a first time . . . was just perfect.

But that conversation was coming soon . . . it was coming very soon. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next weekend.

But definitely before Christmas, he knew now that he couldn't wait that long.

Of course he could still find a ring for then. But the conversation . . . he brushed her bangs back . . . and all that would hopefully come with it . . . that wasn't going to wait three more weeks.

With his decision made, Hotch's eyes were soft as he kissed her again while he rolled them once more. This time so she was back on his chest. And then he fixed the blankets around her shoulders and pressed his lips to her ear as he whispered, "you're my beautiful girl," and then he wrapped his arms tightly around her and slowly exhaled.

It took Emily a moment to realize what he had done . . . told her he loved her by stopping.

Because it reminded her . . . there were so many things that they needed to talk about. Things they needed to say before they did this. And that was a conversation that was too much to handle at one thirty in the morning.

Especially after the night they'd already had.

So he was right to stop them. As much as she wanted him, she didn't want their first time to just be a desperate act of coupling.

Her need for him to be alive driving her desire.

She wanted it to be beautiful and fun . . . and sweet. Because that's what they were together.

So she nuzzled his neck, kissing his throat before she murmured, "thank you."

His eyes crinkled slightly as he kissed the top of her head.

"Good night sweetheart."

* * *

_A/N 2: Ah yes, Emily s dream would be the version of Officer Down where the bullets go through Hotch's vest. I actually did write version where that happened, though I didn't kill him. And obviously I didn't put it up, not yet anyway. Maybe someday when I've exhausted all of the other worlds. Universe X :)_

_This is it here for a few days at least. I have two chapters I'm going to try to merge together to address the E/M situation and another step forward for H/P. Otherwise I do have a couple of other stories competing for my attention as well. And as I said to somebody else, as long as the muse is being so creative, I have to let her go where she wants to go. Otherwise she'll take her ball and go home. And we've all seen that happen before, it's not pretty._


	131. Idiotic Men & the Women Who Love Them

**Author's Note**: Another two parter. The fight was Thursday night, this picks up with them Saturday morning. This is a VERY long chapter. It actually covers a week in their life. So it takes them from Saturday to the following Friday.

* * *

_**Early December: Saturday**_

**Idiotic Men and the Women Who Love Them**

With a heavy sigh, Emily shifted in her seat and turned to look out the side window at the grey winter sky above them.

She was depressed.

They'd just dropped Jack off at Haley's and now she and Hotch were on their way to the office to the meet the rest of the team before they flew out to Nebraska.

And that TOTALLY sucked because it was only Saturday. They'd basically just had Jack for two hours last night before he went to bed and then they had to bring him to Haley's almost immediately after they woke up this morning.

That wasn't fair. Jack wasn't even her child, but that's all she could think when a miserable Hotch woke her up this morning to say that they had to fly out. In fact, as she thought back on her half asleep state she had a vague recollection of actually saying it out loud to him.

"_But we shouldn't have to give him back already. That's not fair."_

As though fairness had anything to do with real life.

If it did they wouldn't be flying out on this priority case at 8 am on a Saturday. Two young girls had gone missing walking home from school yesterday.

They were the fourth and fifth abductions in as many weeks. Two bodies found so far.

Raped and murdered at ten years old. That . . . she thought bitterly . . . sure as hell wasn't "fair" either.

Christ, they weren't even there yet and already the case was shaping up to be depressing as hell.

Emily began to rub her temple as she shifted slightly in her seat. Actually the damn case was already giving her a serious headache. Her jaw twitched as she shifted her gaze over to Hotch. She was thinking about breaking out a little pout to see if she could get some sympathy.

Not that she was in terrible pain, but it was uncomfortable. And given the nature of the situation they were walking into . . . and how depressed she was already feeling about said situation . . . this was possibly going to be the last chance for any 'untainted by tragedy' sweetness from Hotch until they got home.

That was the thought anyway. But suddenly all thoughts of her own discomfort faded as she took in his appearance.

"Aaron," she asked worriedly, "are you okay?"

His color was . . . well, his color was bad. Chalky. And though he'd been a little pale when they got up, she thought it was just because he'd been dragged out of bed at three to consult with the local detectives.

But he certainly didn't look this bad an hour ago.

After checking his mirrors, Hotch glanced over at Emily as he nodded, "uh, yeah," he looked back to the road, "yeah, I'm fine."

He could tell from the look on her face that she didn't entirely believe him. Nor should she really, because he wasn't exactly being entirely forthcoming in answering her question.

Still though, when she asked, "are you sure?" he shot her a faint smile as he said it again, "yep, I'm fine."

He wasn't actually _lying,_ he was just perhaps stretching the truth a bit. But he hadn't been shot or stabbed so in that respect he was okay.

Beyond that though . . . his stomach churned uneasily . . . he wasn't actually feeling that great.

At first he thought it was just the lack of sleep that was throwing him off. Then he thought maybe it was the horrible nature of the case itself. Looking over the ruined bodies of dead little girls generally did not do much for your appetite.

Still though, he'd been doing this job for over a decade. Though the work was still clearly upsetting, it had been years since the autopsy reports actually made him _physically_ ill.

He'd seen far too much tragedy to sustain that level of visceral recoil for this many years. If he did he'd be an anorexic alcoholic by now.

But whatever was going on today, his stomach had been doing cartwheels off and on for the past couple hours. So he'd decided to skip breakfast and only drank half of his cup of coffee. God knows he desperately needed the caffeine, but he wasn't an idiot.

Plain black coffee poured into an upset stomach, Christ he might as well pour battery acid in there.

No, he figured he'd get some tea on the plane, and that would settle his stomach and give him a minor caffeine boost. _Then_ he'd be fine.

And then the truth that he had just mildly stretched would bounce back to its original shape. Because really, his immune system was generally cast iron. It was rare that any ailment affected him in more than a mildly transitory way.

He hadn't had a bad cold in years. All he got was the occasional sniffle or vague cough that cleared up in a day or so. But that was it for 'notable' illnesses in quite some time.

Granted his stomach had been causing him some distraction for a number of hours now, and that was fairly unusual. But not life threatening by any means.

Still though, he knew that if he mentioned anything to Emily that she'd just worry needlessly that he was getting sick.

It was nothing . . . he felt Emily lace her fingers through his and he squeezed her hand . . . it was always nothing.

It would pass soon enough.

///////////

Emily paced anxiously outside the men's room at the police precinct.

They were in the middle of giving a profile . . . a PROFILE(!) . . . when Hotch had suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth and bolted from the room mid-sentence. Not even just mid-sentence, mid-WORD!

It was astounding.

Truly, if she hadn't been there to see it, she wouldn't have believed it. Hotch's will was unbendable, and yet somehow . . . his body had beaten him. Though she of course knew better than most that he was a mere mortal, still, that was the first time she'd seen him so vulnerably human on such a base level.

It was very unsettling.

Fortunately (or probably unfortunately from Hotch's point of view) the whole team sans Garcia was there for the incident. So after a stunned pause, Dave had quickly picked up the thread of Hotch's sentence. And once he and Derek had refocused the attention of the room, Emily had slipped out to check on Hotch.

Though he'd been pale since they arrived in Pawnee City yesterday, he kept telling her it was nothing. But the fact that he hadn't been able to keep his lunch down long enough to get the three syllable word "transient" out of his mouth, indicated just how sick he must really be.

When she checked her watch Emily saw it had been almost four minutes since he'd run out of the briefing. Now she was debating whether she could follow him into the men's room without causing a major scene.

If there was anyone else in there, Hotch REALLY wouldn't appreciate her coming in and coddling him.

Just as she was about to bust in anyway the door suddenly opened and Emily's head snapped up.

_Hotch!_

But it wasn't him.

Damn. It was the desk sergeant she'd been talking to earlier. But this was at least something, so she grabbed his arm before he could get away.

"I'm sorry sergeant," she asked anxiously, "but Agent Hotchner, did you see him? Is he all right?"

"Yes, I saw him and, no," the sergeant's nose wrinkled slightly as he shook his head, "no, really he did not look well."

At that pronouncement, he seemed to take note of her agitation. Then he tipped his head back towards the door as he said kindly, "there's nobody else in there if you want to check on him."

"Oh thank you," Emily patted his arm as she brushed passed him in relief, "thank you very much for that," and she pushed the door open.

Like the ladies room, the first thing you saw was a wall. The stalls (and urinals) would be around the corner.

"Hotch," she called out worriedly as she moved further into the bathroom, "Hotch, are you all right?"

She came around the corner to find him leaning on the vanity with his upper body bent over the sink. He lifted his head slightly and their eyes caught in the mirror.

He was white as a sheet.

"Oh Aaron," Emily murmured as she hurried over, "what can I do?"

It was the first time she'd EVER seen him sick! Hotch didn't even catch so much as the common cold, let alone whatever the hell it was he'd picked up now.

This had to be like one of those superbugs if it was able to knock Aaron Hotchner down!

Hotch eyes slid away from hers in the mirror as he slowly shook his head, "nothing, I'm . . ."

He almost said he was fine but that would have most likely resulted in a stream of expletives from Emily that would have made a sailor blush. So he went with the truth instead.

"I'm feeling a little better now," he turned, trying to conjure up a small smile for her, "I'll be along in a minute."

But apparently the smile fell flat because she ignored his not so subtle efforts to get her to leave him alone. All he wanted was a few minutes to get his roiling stomach back under control, and THEN he would be fine. This was nothing. An aberration.

He just needed a minute (by HIMSELF) to focus.

Rather than giving him a minute though, Emily wet a paper towel with cold water and pressed it to his forehead.

Damn . . . he bit his lip . . . it was hard to stay irritated with her when she was being sweet. And then when she felt his cheek with the back of her other hand, he couldn't help rubbing his face slightly on her soft skin.

It was nice and cool.

Apparently Emily also noticed the difference in their body temperature because the next words out of her mouth were a slightly panicked.

"Aaron, you're burning up!"

God . . . she was starting to get really anxious . . . fevers were bad. The last time she had a fever he dragged her to the emergency room so her brains wouldn't liquefy. She sincerely doubted that she could get him to go to the hospital though.

Certainly not voluntarily.

And really . . . her brow wrinkled . . . was she even physically capable of dragging him anywhere he didn't want to go? Probably not. She'd need Dave and Derek.

And maybe Reid to hold the door.

"It's not that bad," he said firmly as he tried to shake off her concern, "really Emily, I'm sure it was just something I ate. I got sick and now I'll start to feel better."

But to his consternation she still didn't seem to be listening to him. She squeezed his hand, "you should go back to the hotel and lie down."

Even though she knew that the doctor conversation was a nonstarter, she hoped maybe at least taking a couple hours of sick time would be something she could sell.

But she could see from the look on his face that this idea was an uphill climb as well.

"What?!" He looked at her in astonishment, "NO!"

Yes, he understood that she was concerned, but that was ridiculous! There was work to do and he wasn't about to go take a NAP when there were missing children that needed to be found!

It took him a second to knock down his indignation at Emily's suggestion, but then he processed that she had just flinched at his tone. And now she was staring at the tile slightly to the left of his shoulder.

Her jaw was twitching.

She was pissed.

And that's when he realized that maybe he had been a little too brusque in his tone. After all, he was snapping at her just because she was just worried about him.

Granted, the fact that it was taking most of his concentration to not hurl up the OTHER half of turkey sandwich he'd had at lunch was probably driving his lack of patience at the moment.

Still though, he didn't want to argue about this. Even if it was a minor disagreement, he certainly didn't to want to get into _anything_ unpleasant with her after the horrendous fight of the other night.

Things had been really good between them since then.

_Really_ good.

So good that he had been planning on having that overdue conversation Saturday night after Jack went to bed.

But of course those plans were shot to hell when they had to go back to work, which was all the more reason to get this case closed as quickly as possible.

He had plans to tell the woman in front of him that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and that wasn't happening until they got back home again.

So he brushed her hair back behind her hair as he softened his tone, "Emily, I promise that it's not that bad. And we have work to do, and I think my time is better spent doing that work then fruitlessly attempting to lie down and rest. Because you know that I won't. You know I'll just be thinking about what needs to be down here."

She stared at him . . . okay, that was true. He wouldn't sleep. He'd just be on the phone attempting to control things from off site.

Still though . . . she scowled slightly . . . he was obviously very sick and if he expected to get well then he NEEDED to rest! If their positions were reversed he'd certainly be making HER rest! Hell, if any of them looked as bad as he did now he'd have sent them back to the hotel before they dropped on the floor.

But it was obvious from the tone (the prior one, not the nice one he'd just broken out when he'd realized he was yelling) that he had no intention of going anywhere.

And remembering their promise to one another the other night, she really didn't want a small disagreement to lead to an actual fight . . . she shot him another little scowl . . . but he was being pretty stupid right now.

Not that she could do anything about that. So she took a breath to catch her temper before she looked over at him warily, "do you _promise_ me that if it gets worse that you'll go back to the hotel and rest?"

For a moment Hotch paused, and then he squeezed Emily's fingers as he gave her a reluctant nod, "IF, I start to feel worse, I will consider that option."

Leaving the 'promise' out of his response was of course deliberate. He didn't break promises to her. He'd broken too many to Haley, so Hotch was careful not to make any to Emily that he couldn't keep. But he knew in this instance that promising that he was going to take a sick day would have been a bold face lie.

He was going to work until this case was closed and that's all there was to it.

Of course he could see how worried she was. And he also knew from the knitting of her brow that she didn't exactly see hear his response as a ringing endorsement of her plan.

And God knows he wanted to just smooth this over, get past it so she'd stop worrying and they could just focus on the work. A hug might have done it . . . physical contact was generally a direct path to forgiveness . . . but even a quick hug was out.

Not only were they on duty but they were also in the men's bathroom.

Anyone could walk in there.

As soon as that thought came to him he heard Dave come through the door calling his name. Emily quickly dropped his hand as they both turned to look at Rossi coming around the corner.

Emily knew that Hotch was lying through his teeth to her about how badly he was feeling. The fever alone had to be killing him, let alone the stomach bug, and she wasn't about to let him perpetuate his little tale for Dave as well.

So before he could open his mouth she spoke for him.

"He's sick, throwing up, running a fever and he's going to keep working," she shot Hotch a look, "there's a whole team of us here you know, if you go lie down for two hours the entire operation is not going to come to a grinding halt. You do trust us," she raised her eyebrow, "don't you?"

Yes, she knew that was a low blow, but he was being stubborn for stubborn's sake. And attempting to get Dave on her side was really the last option here of maybe changing his mind.

Hotch's jaw twitched in agitation . . . well, so much for smoothing things over. Apparently she was now playing hard ball. He looked to Rossi for help but he threw up his hands.

"Don't look at me. I agree with Prentiss. We can certainly hold down the fort and if you're that sick you shouldn't be working."

Rossi believed that to be true, but he also knew better than to get on the wrong side of the woman when a couple was fighting.

And openly declared or not, Emily and Hotch were indeed a couple.

One clearly in the midst of a major disagreement.

He could also tell from the set of Hotch's jaw that this was one wasn't over yet.

"Listen," Hotch again heard a tone and attempted to even it out, "both of you know," he shot Emily a look, "_full well_ that I trust your abilities. But the more of us working the faster this will go. Now," he clutched his stomach again as he tried to bite back a groan, "just give me a minute and I'll be back out to see where we are on interviews."

Rossi could see that Emily was close to a total meltdown . . . though in her defense Dave could clearly see that Hotch was being a stubborn ass . . . so he tried to distract her.

"Emily," he put his hand on her shoulder, "maybe you could see if you can scrounge up something to settle his stomach?"

As Hotch suddenly bolted for the stall again Dave whispered in her ear, "you know he's just going to keep working. So in the mean time, if you can find something for the fever and the nausea, that might at least make him feel better."

All right, that was a bit of a manipulation, playing on her feelings for him. But hey, she was the one that fell in love with the jackass! If he was going to be this hardheaded then they should at least do what they could to keep him from passing out in the conference room.

That was Dave's true motivation for getting him the drugs.

Not having to drag Hotch's unconscious body off to the emergency room. But if he mentioned THAT one to Emily she was definitely going to go ballistic.

The manipulative soft cell was definitely the best approach to get her back on task.

Simultaneously hearing Hotch retching as Dave appealed for her to get him some medicine, Emily's anger immediately evaporated.

What was she doing? It wasn't going to do any good to stay pissed at him. He'd made his feelings on this topic clear.

He was going to keep working.

And she'd made her feelings clear on this topic as well.

She wanted him to rest.

They were at an impasse, but the bottom line was, he was sick. She loved him, he was sick and there were things that she could do to make him feel better.

That was the important thing here, not who won the argument. Because really, nobody was going to WIN the argument. Hotch was fighting to keep working a multiple child abduction, murder case.

And she was fighting to send him away so she could work on it without him.

These were the worst cases they had and she'd come to depend on him being at her side. She needed that support to get through the depressing days that were coming.

So, though she was passionate in her belief that he shouldn't be working, it's not like getting him to leave would be a win for her.

He'd still be sick and she'd be doing this shit without him.

For a moment she didn't know what to do. Then she took a breath, realizing that if she wanted to make this relationship work long term that sometimes she was going to have to support him even when she didn't necessarily agree with what he was doing.

That's what you did for people that you loved.

So she looked up at Dave and nodded, "I saw a pharmacy on the corner," she shot a worried look over to the stall as she heard the toilet flush, "I'll be back in ten."

Dave watched her run out before he turned back to see Hotch practically stumbling out of the stall. It was about as bad as Rossi had ever seen him look, and he'd known the man for over a decade.

As Hotch rinsed his mouth and washed his face, Dave took the pack of gum from his pocket. When Hotch turned off the water and turned to look at him, Dave shoved the stick of Trident into his hand as he rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot," he pronounced right before he turned on his heel and walked back out of the bathroom.

Hotch watched him go, waiting until he heard the door swing shut before he turned back to the mirror to fix his hair.

'_He might be an idiot but there was still work to be done.'_

///////////

Emily hovered closely behind Hotch as he slowly started working his way down the steps of the jet. When they'd landed a few minutes ago she'd tried to take his bag so he'd have better balance on the stairs.

But of course he'd taken it back.

Then Dave had snatched it out of Hotch's hands as he rolled his eyes and pointed to the door. It wasn't an issue worth that much of a fight so Hotch had just sighed as he pushed his laptop case further back on his shoulder and turned towards the exit. Emily had made sure that Morgan moved out in front of him just in case Hotch ended up passing out and going headfirst down the staircase and straight onto the tarmac.

Ordinarily that would clearly NOT be a concern, but he really was a mess.

They'd left Quantico six days ago. He'd started throwing up five days ago, and two days ago she'd almost followed through on her thought to enlist the guys to shanghai him into going to the hospital.

Fortunately before they had that ugly scene . . . weapons probably would have been drawn . . . he'd FINALLY stopped throwing up.

Of course he'd really just been down to mostly drive heaves the last two days but even those had eventually subsided.

And then they'd finally caught the UNSUB late last night.

It was after ten by the time they finished the paperwork, too late to fly out from the small regional airport that closed down at nine. So they'd gone back to the motel, and Emily had pulled out the bag of oyster crackers she'd saved from her lunch.

Hotch had slowly eaten a half dozen of them, but more importantly he kept them down without a problem. And then five minutes later he'd promptly passed out on the bed before Emily had so much as gotten his jacket off of him.

So she'd finished undressing him while he was asleep and then, not wanting to leave, had changed into one of his t-shirts before she crawled in and pulled him to her chest. It was the first time they'd shared a bed since they'd left home.

She'd missed him terribly. After The Fight (always and forever to remain in capitals in her mind), and then coming so close to making love, he'd slept over the next night as well.

Lots of cuddling, lots of kissing, still no talking.

The talking was coming, and in the meantime the kissing was keeping her very happy. And once she'd accepted that he was going to keep working . . . and that she needed to support him in that foolish endeavor . . . she'd wanted to stay with him and take care of him. But he'd been adamant about sending her back to her own room to sleep every night.

He didn't want her to get sick.

Which was very sweet, but Emily figured if she was going to pick up whatever he had then she would have gotten it days earlier. He still hadn't wanted to risk it, but once he'd been symptom free for twelve hours she had finally gotten him to agree to let her stay with him.

Curled up in bed with him last night was the first decent sleep she'd had in a week.

That morning . . . she watched now as he carefully stepped onto the tarmac . . . he'd woken her with a kiss. The first one she'd had since they left Virginia.

Again, he hadn't wanted her to get sick.

As she'd hungrily kissed him back, Emily couldn't help but press her palm to his cheek to check for fever. And against her lips he had murmured a promise that whatever he had picked up definitely had passed.

And it seemed that he was right. The crackers weren't an aberration, because he did just fine with the tea and dry toast that Reid brought him on the plane.

Honestly, she had never in her life been so relieved to see a man eat a piece of toast!

Hotch had seriously scared the hell out of her this week. And after his ordeal it was clear looking at him that he was still physically weakened, dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion.

He even looked noticeably thinner than he did before they left.

In part Emily was sure that he was in such bad shape because he had worked the entire week. And there was no doubt in her mind that was the reason it took so long for him to start to get well.

Though she had stopped pestering him about it, the others had been persistent about trying to get him to take a break. But the man had refused to stop working until those children were found.

Admirable, but . . . stupid.

By late on day three though, he was no longer in any condition to be out in the field. It had been a hard sell but she and Dave had at least convinced him to stay back at the station for the duration of the case.

And that was actually a conversation that required the one two punch, because Dave's argument alone that Hotch was simply no longer capable of defending himself, had not been persuasive enough to convince him.

So after Dave had left in a disgusted huff, Emily had pulled Hotch aside to gently point out that if he wasn't worried about his own safety, then he might consider hers, given that he was the one watching her back.

She'd felt terrible pulling that card, but he had absolutely NO business doing field work at that point. He was even more incapacitated than when he'd suffered his hearing damage.

And as expected, that argument for her safety had immediately struck a nerve. He'd swallowed hard and nodded his head as he whispered, "okay, you win."

Then he went out to help Reid with victimology.

Thank God they were home now though, and it was the weekend again so she could hopefully keep him in bed. Seriously, if it was a regular work day tomorrow she wouldn't have been at all surprised if he'd insist on going right back into the office.

As that thought came to her it was just as she stepped off the stairway, joining him and Morgan on the tarmac. Though Hotch hadn't actually done the thing she'd just imagined him doing, she still shook her head at him as she rolled her eyes in affectionate exasperation.

Of course Hotch knew exactly why Emily was huffing at him so he just gave her a small smile as they started walking . . . at a snail's pace . . . towards the main building.

Though she hadn't actually given him any crap about it since the little quarrel in the bathroom, Hotch knew that she had been frustrated with him for not taking any time off this week. But even when it reached the point that HE knew that he was getting weaker, there was just no way he could ever hang around in his hotel room when they had missing children to find.

It just wasn't in his wiring.

And they had found those last two children alive. The UNSUB was behind bars, and Hotch himself was feeling better now so everything had worked out as well as could be expected given they still had three dead children being mourned in that small town.

Granted, health wise he wasn't actually feeling "good," but he no longer had to walk around with a trash can all day. That was something to be grateful for.

Though . . . looking around at the group . . . he figured they were all grateful for that one.

Speaking of the group, they had just gotten into the building and he had just realized that rather than disbursing off into little groups like they would have normally, they were clearly trying to keep pace with him.

And his pace wasn't exactly up to its normal speed.

It was nice that they were worried, but he knew that they wanted to just go home, six days is a LONG time to be away.

So he stopped in the middle of the hall so he could send them on their way.

"Guys," they turned to look at him, "I'm not going to fall on my face, just go on home. I'll see you on Monday."

After a couple "are you sures?" from Reid and Jordan, and a "hope you feel better man" from Morgan, the three of them hurried off leaving Hotch alone with Emily and Dave.

Scrunching up his brow, Dave gave Hotch a searching look, "Hotch are you _sure_ that you're really all right? Because if you're still throwing up today then you should definitely go to the emergency room. If nothing else they could give you fluids."

He probably should have seen a doctor two days ago but at this point that was neither here nor there.

Though his voice was still hoarse from all the throwing up, Hotch nodded firmly, "Dave I swear to you, I haven't been sick in over twenty-four hours. I just need to rest."

Rossi eyed him closely for a minute and then looked at Emily hovering protectively at his side. Dave knew that if Hotch really did need to see a doctor that she'd make sure it happened. After all, she was the one that convinced him to take himself out of the field.

So he nodded, "okay," he handed Hotch back the duffel bag that he'd been holding hostage, "I hope you feel better. You call me if you need anything."

Then he walked away with a wave to both of them.

As Dave disappeared through the double doors, Hotch turned to Emily as he said hesitantly, "uh, you know that you can go too if you want. I'll be okay." She just stared at him until his lips twitched, "well I figured it would be polite to make the offer."

Emily rolled her eyes as they continued walking. Then he heard her mocking him under her breath "'you can go too if you want.'" She shot him another look as she muttered, "big dummy."

Hotch snorted at her derisive comments about his intelligence. After everything that he'd put her through this week he was relieved that was all she was hurling at him.

But he just didn't want her to feel obligated to stay with him.

They weren't married. Hell they weren't even OFFICIALLY dating! She was under no legal or emotional obligation to stay with him. Though of course that didn't change the fact that Emily was all that he wanted right now. His fingers glided over her back as they turned down the next corridor . . . and he was infinitely grateful that she hadn't left him.

Though if the situations were reversed, of course he wouldn't have left her under any circumstances. But if the situation had REALLY been reversed she'd probably be better by now because he would have ordered her to stay at the hotel for the duration of the case.

Yes, the irony there was not lost on him. He had insisted on working all week when she asked him to try and rest a little, and now he felt like he'd been hit by a dump truck and then dragged for the next five blocks.

He'd behaved stupidly and if he had to do it again he knew that he wouldn't change a thing. Though . . . he felt a small stab of shame . . . next time he would voluntarily remove himself from field work before an intervention was staged.

That was admittedly one issue that he had not handled well at all.

And as he thought back on that moment, he felt another wave of exhaustion hit him. It had been a long week.

He'd had enough.

So he put his hand on Emily's shoulder as he said wearily, "I know you aren't going to believe me, but I actually don't want to go to my office at all. I just want to go home."

Emily shot him a raised eyebrow as they walked along the corridor, "you know, that's funny because I thought I saw a pig go passed the window on our flight back. Glad to know it wasn't just my imagination."

His lips twitched slightly and she smiled, "that's good though, we'll just get the elevator now and go straight to the parking garage. And then I'll come in tomorrow and check the in-boxes."

Hotch nodded as he closed his eyes for a second, "sounds good."

Though he'd slept most of the ride home, he just realized that they'd been walking not even ten minutes and it was completely sapping the last of his energy.

Though that would make sense, a fully grown adult can't really subsist on water, toast and crackers.

Especially not if he was only retaining that food long enough to absorb just a fraction of the nutrition from any of those items.

Seeing the look pass over Hotch's face, Emily's brow wrinkled in sympathy . . . God he looked miserable.

Given the amount of fluids he'd lost, she'd really prefer that he go to the E.R. to get checked out. But now that he was on the mend she knew that there was just no way that he would agree to it.

Fortunately he was otherwise in perfect health, and now that the germs had passed through his system, hopefully he would bounce back quickly.

Though in the meantime he was basically just the walking dead.

As they stepped onto the privacy of the elevator Emily reached over and slipped his go bag off his shoulder, ignoring his feeble protests with a dry, "I can flip a grown man over my shoulder Aaron, so I think I can juggle two duffel bags and two laptops for the walk to the car."

Seeing her logic, and not being up to a chauvinistic, 'but I'm the man' argument, Hotch just gave a resigned nod and closed his eyes.

As he leaned back against the wall of the elevator, the worry lines on Emily's forehead returned. Seeing him this weak was still very . . . upsetting.

Even though she knew he wasn't on his deathbed, this week had been a struggle to get her brain to process the idea of Hotch being so vulnerable.

She worried about him and stray bullets, but otherwise he was supposed to be invincible. And she couldn't deny the small ache in her chest at the realization that he wasn't.

When the doors opened on the parking level, she could no longer resist the urge to touch him. So . . . though there were also cameras in the garage . . . as soon as they stepped off the elevator, she slipped her arm through his.

Hugs would have wait until they were home.

There was no discussion about whose house they were going to, Emily knew that he needed to be in his own bed. So as they walked along he began to dig out his keys.

She'd get her car on Monday.

When he passed the key ring over to her she almost considered taking him straight to the hospital whether he liked it or not.

No work and now no driving. Separately these were almost unheard of events, but both together . . . she looked over worriedly . . . it was practically a miracle worthy of investigation by the Catholic Church.

Per usual Hotch could read her mind, and as she stared at him he muttered, "no Emily, I don't need a doctor, just some sleep."

She chuckled in relief as she rubbed his back, "okay, just checking."

His eyes crinkled slightly as he looked over at her. Now that kissing was completely on the regular agenda, he would have loved to give her one. But . . . he stopped at the passenger's side door of his car . . . they were still on the hallowed grounds of the Academy so that kiss would have to wait.

Emily hit the locks and Hotch slowly climbed into the car and closed his eyes. She looked at him for a second before she went around back to put their bags in the trunk.

When she climbed into the front seat a minute later she whispered, "Aaron," and his eyes popped open.

"What?" he said groggily, and she gave him a little smile as she held up her water bottle, "honey, you need to keep up with your fluid intake."

They had him on two sips an hour on the plane ride home. He'd barely finished one bottle of water.

Hotch gave her a sleepy smile as he took the bottle from her hand, "okay," and he took three sips before he passed it back to her. As thirsty as he admittedly was, he figured that was enough for now.

Really, he didn't think his system could take large amounts of anything just yet.

Still though, Emily seemed happy with as much as he'd gotten down . . . it was more than he'd had at once on the plane . . . so he figured he'd done well enough.

He watched as Emily started the car before she adjusted the seat and the mirrors. For a moment her hand hovered over the radio but then she pulled it away with a little shake of her head.

Hotch smiled.

Just after they pulled out of the parking garage he reached over and took her free hand. It was admittedly a little unusual having their positions completely reversed. Not that Emily had never driven before, but he could probably count those days on one hand.

Still though, he trusted her completely, and soon he felt his lids falling shut.

He just wanted to rest his eyes for a minute.

After she turned onto I-95, Emily glanced over to see that Hotch had fallen asleep.

It had barely been twenty minutes since they landed.

Her expression softened as she gently squeezed his fingers . . . and he had wanted her to leave him at the office.

Yeah . . . she huffed humorlessly to herself . . . they would have found him curled up under a dumpster on Monday.

///////////

Emily couldn't remember what Hotch had in the way of food in his house (they'd spent the last few days before they left at her place) so she stopped at the Safeway on the way home. Hotch stirred slightly as she pulled into the parking space but he didn't wake up.

Still though, in case he was at all conscious, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, "I'll be right back."

And then she went into the store to pick up all of the basic 'getting back on your feet' sick person food.

Really though, she just wanted to get him home so she sped around the store with the shopping cart, barely missing mowing people down in the process. She grabbed bread, crackers, ginger ale, Coke, bland soup, Gatorade, and one more bottle of Pepto Bismol just to make sure nothing else he ate upset his stomach.

Though she was kind of afraid that he'd developed an immunity to the pink liquid after the gallon he'd chugged that week.

Well . . . she dropped the plastic bottle into the cart . . . time would tell.

Once she'd picked up everything she thought that he'd need, she realized that she didn't want to be ordering greasy takeout with him feeling the way he was. And God knows that after the drama of the week she certainly wasn't up to cooking any major meals for herself alone.

So with a sigh she went back around the store again to grab a bottle of diet coke and some turkey and cheese to make her own sandwiches.

Just as she started down to the registers she suddenly had another thought and turned to go seek out the nutrition aisle to get some of those vitamin supplement drinks.

That would probably be the best thing to get him started on anyway. It would get his fluids up and he'd get the protein.

After she threw three boxes of Ensure into her cart, she headed back down to the registers again.

Admittedly, after all that running around she was starting to get a little tired herself. And of course . . . she scowled . . . there was a line.

So ten additional minutes and three shopping bags later, she finally trudged back out to the car.

It had been at least twenty five minutes since she left and Hotch was still sound asleep in the passenger side. She bit her lip as she looked at him through the glass.

Poor baby.

Now that they were home and the case was over, she was no longer conflicted with her feelings. In Nebraska her concern had continued to be tempered with anxiety and frustration about him working.

But now . . . she tossed the groceries in the trunk with their other bags . . . all she was left with was worry and concern about the man she loved.

She tried to be quiet about getting back into the car, but unfortunately he jumped when she pulled the door shut. They looked at each other for a moment before she leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. Then she whispered, "we'll be home in a minute hon."

Hotch gave her a soft smile as he brushed his fingers through her hair. And for just a moment . . . he almost said it.

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. But he bit them down because he knew that he was going to be passing out again in about thirty seconds.

It would be nice if he didn't drop the big "I love you" on her and then fall unconscious for the next forty eight hours.

But Emily seemed to sense that there was more that he wanted to say, because her lip quirked up slightly right before she winked and turned to start the car again. His eyes fell shut just as a small smile touched his lips.

She always could read his mind.

///////////

Emily pulled into Hotch's parking spot and let out a relieved huff . . . they were getting home just before dark. And if the color of the sky was any indication . . . slate . . . it looked like they get might some snow too. So she was just grateful they'd be in for the night before that happened.

The last thing Hotch needed was to be out in bad weather.

She turned to him . . . still sleeping. Of course. After she unhitched her seatbelt, Emily leaned over to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

No fever.

She caressed his cheek . . . he really was just exhausted. And given that Hotch's house keys were on the same chain as the car keys, she decided to bring up the bags and groceries and then come back down and wake him up.

It was clear that his body had decided to go into hibernation mode to regenerate, and she really wanted to let him sleep as much as she could without disturbing him.

So, Emily loaded herself up with all of their bags . . . as long as she kept the duffels even on her shoulders it wasn't too bad . . . and headed into Hotch's apartment building alone.

As she stepped into the lobby she smiled hello to Sidney, Hotch's very sweet, seventy-five year old doorman. Sidney generally referred to her under the full title, "Miss Prentiss, Mr. Hotchner's lady friend."

A term that amused her to no end.

"Miss Prentiss," he hurried over to try to help her with the bags, "let me get that for you." But she quickly sidestepped him with a grin, "that's okay Sidney, I have it. Thank you very much though."

The poor thing probably only weighed 130 lbs. The laptops alone might topple him to the ground.

He eyed her for a moment before he shook his head in exasperation, "if you insist," then his eyes widened, "oh but Mr. Hotchner isn't home at the moment."

She smiled, "Mr. Hotchner is actually sleeping in the car, I'll be going to collect him in a minute," then she whispered conspiratorially, "he's sick but when you see him just pretend like he's not."

Sydney chuckled "of course ma'am, whatever you think is best."

Emily winked at him before she went over and hit the elevator button with her elbow.

///////////

With great difficulty . . . and much juggling . . . Emily let herself into Hotch's apartment. Then she promptly tripped over one of Jack's matchbox cars and nearly went flying across the room.

With a smile she pushed it aside with her boot . . . little boys. She couldn't wait until she had one of her very own.

One that would also call Hotch daddy, and come with adorable little dimples and chubby little arms and legs.

That . . . she went in and dumped the laptops and their duffels on the couch . . . would be nirvana.

For a moment she stood in the living room wiggling her fingers to get the blood flowing. Once her skin had started to turn a hue that was in the 'normal live human' family, she picked up the grocery bags again and headed for the kitchen.

As she passed the toy car she was suddenly reminded again of Jack. But this time it came with another thought.

It was Friday night and Hotch was supposed to pick him up.

Haley of course knew that they'd been away all week. Hotch had been speaking to Jack on the phone. And they hadn't flown back until late this afternoon so Emily doubted that the other woman had even spoken to Hotch today to know that they were back, let alone had been expecting him to pick up Jack tonight.

But Emily wasn't sure.

Really they had landed at five so if this had been a normal day Hotch could have easily picked up his son on the way home from work. But he hadn't done that because this wasn't a normal day.

_He_ was passed out unconscious, and _she_ had completely lost track of what day it was until she saw Jack's Matchbox car.

And besides that . . . Emily started to worry . . . what about tomorrow?

She was pretty sure that Hotch could easily sleep another twenty four hours. Even if he didn't though, he was so weak he could barely take care of himself right now, let alone a rambunctious little boy. It's not like he could play with him, or really even watch television with him.

Hotch was most definitely going to be unconscious or dragging himself around for at least another day, if not for the majority of the weekend.

And Emily would have loved to take Jack herself, but . . . she felt a tickle of sadness . . . as much as she adored him, that wasn't really her place. It's not like she had any standing here.

It would look very strange if she showed up alone to pick up Hotch's son.

As she chewed nervously on her lip, Emily started putting away the perishables . . . should she call Haley?

Hotch was in no condition to care for his son at the moment, but he'd feel terrible if Jack was expecting him and he forgot to call.

Not to mention, that wouldn't go over well with Haley either. Emily sighed as she placed the bottles of soda in the fridge . . . yeah she should definitely call Haley and tell her what was going on with her ex.

After she finished putting the groceries away, Emily went over and picked up the cordless phone off the wall. Then she looked at the list of numbers printed neatly on the sheet of paper hanging next to it.

Her eyes crinkled when she saw her name on the top two slots . . . home and cell . . . but there was Haley prominently listed too.

Number three.

Emily took a breath and punched in the seven digits. She'd convinced herself this was a good idea for all parties involved, so why now did her stomach feel like she may have caught what Hotch had?

Haley picked up on the second ring, and obviously recognizing the caller ID she answered, "hello Aaron, are you on your way?"

Emily cleared her throat before she responded hesitantly, "uh hi, Haley, actually it's uh, Emily."

There was silence for a moment before the other woman came back faintly, "is he okay?"

And Emily almost smacked herself in the head for basically giving the woman a heart attack thinking that she was calling to tell her that Hotch was dead.

She quickly moved to correct any false impressions.

"Oh God yes!" she said hurriedly, "I'm sorry Haley, yeah he's okay, nothing happened." Then she paused, "well, I mean he's not injured, but I'm calling because he is actually very sick. You know we've been on the road but he's been throwing up all week and now he's completely wiped out. We just got to his place and honestly I wasn't sure if he'd be awake long enough to call you himself so I thought you should at least know he was back and wouldn't be able to take Jack tonight."

Haley was still silent so Emily kept on going in a rush, "and really, he's not in good shape at all so I'm not sure how he'll be tomorrow either. Though I'm sure he'll at least be well enough by then to call you himself."

Emily got her whole mentally prepared spiel out and then braced herself for, well . . . her brow wrinkled . . . she didn't know what. But the few times she'd ever had to speak to a man's ex-wife on his behalf, things had not gone well.

There was only a brief silence and then Haley came back sounding polite, if a little distant, "well, thank you very much for calling me Emily. That was very considerate of you. I'll just plan on keeping Jack until Sunday," she paused, "and if you could please ask Aaron to give me a call sometime tomorrow, and let me know if he'll be up to taking him by then. If so he can keep him until Tuesday if he'd like."

Emily's eyes popped . . . she was VERY surprised that this was going so well . . . so she ended up stuttering back, "uh, yeah, sure, of course, that's no problem."

There was another pause, and Emily was about to say goodbye when Haley came back again. This time there was a note of sadness in her voice.

"And please tell Aaron that I hope he feels better," she paused, "he doesn't like the flat ginger ale, you have to make him drink it. And," she swallowed, "he'll try to eat potato chips. He doesn't get sick very often but when he does he craves greasy food even though he knows it'll just make him throw up again. But you know that he can be so stub . . ."

And suddenly she stopped.

Listening to that painful silence, Emily felt her eyes burn. Haley had correctly inferred that Emily would be taking care of him. At another point in time, that would have been Haley's job . . . her right . . . to look after him when he was sick.

Emily knew that Haley had left Hotch . . . that the divorce was her idea . . . but God, after twenty years together it must still be hard to realize that another woman had taken your place.

That had to still really suck.

Feeling the tears starting to pool, Emily cleared her throat before she said softly, "okay, uh . . . thanks for the advice. I'll remember that."

There was another pause and when Haley came back again it sounded like she was crying.

"Take care of him Emily." And the phone clicked.

Emily looked down at the receiver buzzing in her hand and then she gently place it back on the wall, wiping at the tear spilling out of the corner of her eye as she did so.

Whatever had just happened, Emily was quite sure that Haley wasn't just referring to Hotch's current bout of illness. It sounded like she was maybe giving her blessing to their almost relationship.

Wow.

That was . . . she bit her lip . . . that was not a conversation that Emily had expected to have today. Or possibly ever.

But it was at least a relief to know that whenever she and Hotch had _their_ conversation, that Haley apparently wasn't going to cause problems for them.

For a moment Emily stared at the floor and then she shook her head . . . no time for random musings about the future right now. She checked her watch and her eyes widened.

God DAMN it! She'd left him alone for almost twenty minutes!

Emily raced back out, bypassing the elevator for the stairs. She started getting a little dizzy as she was making the turns and hoped that she wasn't coming down with what Hotch had.

When she hit the ground level she bolted out of the fire door, scaring poor Sidney half to death, and she yelled a "sorry!" as she ran passed him back out to the lot.

As she ran up to the car she was bracing herself . . . please, please, please, please!

Oh thank God . . . she stopped short when he saw him still sleeping . . . he was still there! Of course she knew that he wasn't four years old . . . it's not like she'd left JACK in the car . . . but still, Hotch wasn't in any shape at all to be looking after himself right now.

And she sure as hell hadn't meant to leave him for so long.

She tapped lightly on the window, and when that didn't work, she tapped a little bit harder.

His eyes slowly opened and he looked up sleepily at her. He looked so vulnerable it made her heart hurt. But she tried to cover as she opened the door and quirked up her lip, "come on honey, let's go upstairs and you can go to bed."

Hotch nodded as he yawned and swung his legs out of the car. And for a change he let Emily take a little of his weight to haul him up.

God _damn_ he was tired. Beyond tired, beyond exhausted. This must be where the phrase 'half dead' came from.

As they started across the parking lot with Emily under his arm, all Hotch was doing was praying that he wouldn't have to stop and rest from the car to the elevator.

And that was a two minute walk.

They stepped into the lobby and Hotch nodded hello to his doorman. And Hotch was amused to see that when Sidney returned his greeting, he barely glanced at Emily half dragging him through the lobby.

Clearly she had to have said something to him earlier.

His eyes shifted back down to her at his side . . . he really needed to figure out a sufficient thank you for her when this was all done because he didn't know what he would have done without her today.

After he got divorced he no longer had anyone to lean on in a situation like this. Though granted, he was hard pressed to remember the last time he'd actually been this ill. But honestly without Emily there to help him, he probably would have been crawling into the building.

If he'd even had made it home by now. Fortunately though with Emily having tucked herself under his arm, they actually did okay getting from the car to the apartment.

And by okay Hotch meant that they only had to stop once.

But he'd at least made it through the lobby so he did better than he thought he would.

And then they arrived at his front door, and Emily fumbled the keys into the lock. They stepped inside and he kicked the door shut . . . the lock was automatic . . . as they continued straight back to the bedroom without any stops in between.

As they walked through the living room, Hotch noticed that their bags had already been brought up.

_God, how long had he been sleeping? What else had she done?_

Well . . . he rolled his eyes . . . didn't matter. It all fell under the, 'Emily was wonderful and he was the luckiest man in the world to have her in his life,' umbrella.

And as proof she helped him take off his coat and jacket before she went back out to hang them up in the front hall. He went over to the bed where first he put his gun in the lock box before he kicked off his shoes and then he started fumbling with his belt.

Turned out the belt took a lot of energy so he decided to focus on his shirt instead.

Damn dress shirts . . . he scowled . . . so many buttons. Half way down he stopped and looked up to see that Emily had returned. While she was gone she'd also taken off her coat, and was now biting her lip.

Their eyes locked for a moment before she leaned down with a sad smile. "It's okay," she said softly, "I'll do it."

Though it went against every bit of male ego, he nodded and closed his eyes, "thank you."

She finished undoing his shirt, helping him slip it off before she finished with his belt and had him stand up so she could take off his pants as well.

After what had happened last week, Hotch had really expected that that the next time Emily was in his bedroom helping him undress (the first time of course being when he busted his ribs) it would have been under slightly more amorous circumstances.

But . . . he put his hand on her back to steady himself as he stepped out of his pant leg. . . life was kind of a bitch sometimes.

Once Emily had Hotch stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt she yanked the covers back on the bed. She started to gently push him down, but Hotch wasn't so weak that Emily could maneuver him into doing anything that he didn't allow her to do.

He was still stronger than her.

So held his stance as he looked down at her with a soft smile, "thank you sweetheart."

Her eyes crinkled as she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she turned to whisper in his ear, "no thanks necessary. You'd do the same for me."

And he would. She knew without a doubt that if she were sick then he would take care of her. That's what they did for each other.

Hotch closed his eyes, clutching Emily as tightly as he could as he reveled in having her in his arms again.

A whole week. It had been a whole week since he could do this.

That sucked. Being sick had really sucked on so many levels. And as Emily started to lean back he tugged her closer and sat down on the mattress, pulling her into his lap.

For a moment they sat quietly with her head resting against his. Then she whispered, "I really missed this."

He looked down at her fingers curled around his palm and he nodded slowly, "me too."

As he felt his eyes starting to fall shut again, he patted her back, "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I'm so tired. I need to lie down again."

She kissed his temple, "of course honey, you need to rest," and she stood up. Then she turned and helped him get settled against the headboard. Right before she stood again, he tugged her close and planted a quick kiss on her lips. Then he gave her a drowsy smile, "rain check on a better good night kiss, and I'm sure I owe you a week's worth of cuddling too. In a couple days, I promise."

That was a no brainer promise. Because another thing that really sucked was the fact that they had moved to the regular kissing portion of the relationship and first he was sick all week, now he was really too exhausted to take part in that perk.

Emily grinned as she leaned in to give him one more quick buss, "I'm definitely holding you to that one mister."

His eyes crinkled right before his lashes started to flutter, and Emily . . . seeing that he was falling asleep again . . . crouched down to squeeze his knee.

"Aaron," she said gently, "I need you to stay awake for me for a couple minutes, okay?"

Though his eyes were still closed he nodded on a yawn, "okay." Then his eyes opened again and he frowned, "my head hurts."

Even with all the crap he'd been experiencing, that wasn't exactly a symptom typical for the week.

She furrowed her brow for a second before a thought came to her, "it's probably the dehydration. But that's why I wanted you to stay awake for a minute anyway." She patted his leg, "I'll be right back."

Seeing the faint nod, Emily hurried back out to the kitchen to grab an Ensure, a bottle of water, and the Tylenol from the cabinet.

When she walked back into the room Hotch's eyes popped open. As she came over to sit beside him on the bed he gave her a sleepy smile, "you're really good to me you know?"

She smiled as she undid the small bottle of Ensure, "you're pretty good to me too. Now," she held up the smooth little container, "I want you to drink as much of this as you can."

His eyes crinkled as he took the bottle from her and drank half. Then he looked over to her worried face and made sure to finish the rest. It wasn't that big a serving so he was sure that it wouldn't cause a problem.

After he handed her that empty, Emily gave him the water and Tylenol. He swallowed those (only a few sips of water though – he didn't want to overdo it) and then he slumped back against the pillow muttering, "tired."

Emily's lip quirked up as she brushed his hair back, "okay you go to sleep now. I'll be in the living room if you need me."

She started to leave but Hotch caught her hand. And she looked back to see his eyes were wide open. There was a slight bit of panic in them.

"But aren't you going to sleep in here?"

_Where did she think she was going? Since when did she sleep on the COUCH!?_

Emily chuckled at his look of distress, "well, seeing as I won't be going to sleep at seven-thirty like SOMEBODY," she gave him a look, "I just figured I'd watch TV for a little while. But," she could see the tension still around his mouth and she leaned in to press a quick kiss to his forehead before she finished, "if you don't think it'll bother you I can lie down in here and read."

"Please," Hotch patted her side of the bed as he said softly, "I sleep better with you."

That was a declaration of sorts. Not the big one yet of course, but it meant something. And he knew that Emily knew that it meant something too. Because he saw her eyes were wet as she squeezed his hand. Then she whispered back, "me too. So just let me change and I'll be right back."

Leaving Hotch half asleep on the bed, Emily went back out to the living room and turned the deadbolt. Then she grabbed her duffel, kicking her boots off as she came back into the bedroom.

She dropped her gun and holster on the nightstand, and her bag on the desk before she started digging through it to see if she even had any semi clean clothes left to change into.

They had been gone longer than usual and she had been expecting to be home tonight.

There was a pair of black and white striped pajama bottoms but not one t-shirt that didn't seriously need washing. Her head popped up and she spotted a clean pile of laundry on the dresser.

She stole one of Hotch's white t-shirts from the stack . . . his clothes were her clothes . . . and went into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth.

A few minutes later she came back into the bedroom expecting Hotch would be dead asleep. But to her surprise he'd put the TV on and was flipping channels with his eyes half open.

Emily got the overhead light before slipped into bed next to him.

She had left a book on his nightstand a couple weeks ago. But before she picked it up Hotch handed her the remote as he yawned, "here, you're right, it is too early for you to be in bed," then he gestured sleepily, "so I put on Dirty Jobs for you."

Her crush on Mike Rowe was legendary. Actually, Hotch was a little worried that if she ever actually _met_ the guy that he might have to reassess whether he had competition for her affection.

But as long as Mike existed solely within the confines of the HD box, then Hotch saw no reason to be jealous of a man that Emily had never met that probably lived 2000 miles away from them.

Emily bit her lip as she smiled down at him . . . he knew that she had a huge crush on Mike Rowe. She kissed his cheek, "thank you," then she fixed the pillows behind her so she was slightly propped up. Lastly she turned down the volume of the television slightly so that Hotch could sleep undisturbed.

The show was at an okay volume but the stupid commercials would probably go up another ten decibels.

Once Emily had herself arranged comfortably she leaned back, and Hotch . . . who had been waiting patiently for her to get settled . . . rolled over, wrapped his arm possessively around her waist, and buried his face in her neck.

He was asleep almost instantly.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at him. This is what Haley had walked away from. And this is what Emily wanted all the time. She wanted it so badly she could taste it. To be the one that took care of him when he was sick. To see that he ate well, and watched his cholesterol, cheered him up when he had a bad day and worried about him when he was late.

Most of those things she did now. But she wanted it to be her JOB to do them. She wanted it understood, that he was hers and she was his and these were their responsibilities to each other.

Because that's what real love was.

Not flowers and poetry, but . . . a tear ran down her face . . . making sure he drank the flat ginger ale.

And they were almost there . . . she sniffled her tears back . . . it was more than obvious that he was ready for the conversation, now it was just a matter of timing.

Clearly with his head in the toilet half the week, timing had not been on their side.

But he was getting better now. Also, they were no longer searching for the butcher of small children.

That was another thing that had not been on their side, the particularly horrific nature of this week's case.

Now they were home though. And the holidays were fast approaching and then it would be a new year.

And she knew . . . a faint smile touched her lips as she stroked his hair . . . it was going to be her best year yet. She was finally going to have the whole package by then.

Her eyes shifted down again to make sure that Hotch was definitely asleep.

Out like a light.

So she tipped her head slightly to whisper in his ear, "very soon I'm going to tell you that you're the one I was waiting for. That you're the one I want to share my blankets with for the next fifty years," her voice got husky, "I'm going to tell you that I love you Aaron," she kissed his cheek, "I love you so much," and then she smiled right before she whispered one more thing.

"Now you just make sure to say all of it back."

As she settled against her pillows again, Emily saw that he hadn't even stirred. Actually he was now drooling slightly on one corner of his t-shirt.

In this instance it was the t-shirt covering her left breast.

She smiled as she kissed the top of his head . . . that's my guy.

Then she scooted down a bit so she could hug him in closer. And feeling the warmth of Hotch's breath tickling her breast through the thin cotton, Emily slowly ran her fingers through his hair. Then she sighed happily as she settled in with her first favorite man in the world, to watch her second favorite man in the world hike through a cave full of bat guano.

'_This was the life.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: I wrote this to kind of even out the power balance in their relationship. To show that Hotch is as dependent on her, physically and emotionally, as she is on him. Given that they are very shortly going to find out that she's sick, I thought the timing here was crucial to show that they are coming from the same place in their level of commitment to each other._

_Though they still don't get to have The Conversation until he finds out she's sick (that's rather the crux of the events in the hospital and I wasn't really inclined to destroy the basic thread of the entire second story :) BUT I didn't want them to have a backward slide either. I saw no reason for it. They'd gone as far as they had the night they had the fight, they both knew that they needed to talk before they went any further, but there's no reason that the real kissing would have gone by the wayside. After all, most couples do kiss rather regularly WELL before they make any sort of lifelong declarations to one another :)_

_Like the fight chapters, there is a companion piece to this one that picks up a few hours later._

_I MIGHT get it up later Sunday. It is written. I wrote both of these chapters months ago but I haven't read it over yet. This one was so damn long there was no time for simultaneous review. _

_Total side note: Tonight somebody left me a very nice review on The Snake Pit and I needed a little break from proofing this so I bopped over to take a look at my very old story. It was from last summer and I stupidly started reading it over to see if I saw any typos, ended up freaking myself out completely! I shut it down as I cursed my own idiocy for looking at it after midnight. So fortunately I had this to come back to again :)_


	132. The Shape of Things to Come

**Author's Note**: Companion to the last chapter. Hotch is still sick, this is later that night.

One thing to remind you of, in their world it's late 2008. I mention it because there's a date in here and you might have thought it sounded wrong because it's so long ago. But this is early season 4.

**Prompt Announcement**: Kavi and I put up new Regular Prompts, a new bonus for St. Patrick's Day (hopefully you guys will enjoy the guidelines there) and a Fan's Choice Bonus, which is explained more fully over on the forum. So there are like fifteen prompts so go check 'em out! :)

* * *

_Early December: Friday/Saturday_

**The Shape of Things to Come**

Hotch suddenly bolted upright in bed.

"OH SHIT!"

His yell scared Emily half to death as she too bounded up, instantly as wide awake as he was.

"WHAT?!" her eyes were wide in alarm as she snapped on the light and turned to him, "what's the MATTER!? Are you sick again?"

_God, please don't let him be sick again!_

Hotch looked over at her in horror, "I forgot about JACK! I was supposed to pick him up tonight and I completely forgot!"

He FORGOT his own son! What kind of father forgot about his child?! That was just . . . awful!

"Oh, no," Emily patted his arm as she hastened to reassure him, "no it's okay. Don't worry," she pulled her knees up to her chest, "I called Haley and told her that you were sick."

She of course had remembered AFTER he fell asleep that she'd forgotten to tell him about her call with his ex. But she'd assumed that he'd sleep through the night. And she wasn't going to wake him up just to tell him something that he shouldn't have thought about on his own until he was conscious again.

But apparently she'd _completely_ underestimated the paternal instincts. Because if it had occurred to her for one SECOND that he would wake up in a near panic at one in the morning then . . . she scrubbed her hand down her face . . . she _definitely _would have disturbed his sleep earlier in the evening.

It took Hotch a second to process what Emily said as he mentally shifted from feeling horrified and guilty to just plain old confused.

The processing time probably wasn't helped by the fact that he'd been sound asleep twenty seconds earlier.

So his brow wrinkled slightly as he rubbed his hand over his mouth, "_you_ called Haley?"

Emily gave him a rather awkward smile, "yeah, sorry, it was when you were sleeping in the car. I thought of it when I came up and I didn't think that you'd be lucid enough to think to call her yourself. And then I meant to tell you when we came in but I'm sorry, I forgot," her nose wrinkled slightly as she looked over at him, "are you mad?"

Calling his ex-wife on his behalf could be seen as rather presumptuous.

Okay . . . her brain corrected . . . _very_ presumptuous. But hopefully he'd see that she'd meant well.

Hotch's expression softened as he saw the concern on her face. Why would she think he'd be upset about something like that? She was just being nice.

So to allay Emily's concerns, Hotch kissed the back of her hand as his eyes crinkled slightly, "of course I'm not mad sweetheart. I was just surprised. Thank you very much for doing that," then he cringed slightly himself as he asked warily, "was _she_ mad?"

That was great that Emily had called to explain that he was sleeping, but that didn't mean that Haley wasn't pissed about her calling instead of him. Or just simply upset about him not picking up their son.

After all, regardless of what was going on with him, Jack was as much his responsibility as hers.

And he still felt terrible for forgetting him. Though admittedly he wasn't sure how responsible a caregiver he'd have been this evening even if he had realized it was Friday and they had picked up Jack. Emily absolutely would have been taking care of him. Tomorrow Hotch figured he should be feeling somewhat better, but certainly not running around and keeping up with a four year old better.

More like _'hey buddy, come lie on the couch with daddy while we watch every Disney movie ever made'_ better.

Emily scooted up to lean against the headboard as she shook her head, "no, no actually she was really cool about it. She said she'd plan to keep him until Sunday and if you could just call her tomorrow to let her know if you'd up to taking him by then."

For a moment Emily paused as she considered the rest of their conversation. She wasn't about to share Haley's other comments with him . . . that was something very personal between the women . . . but then Emily remembered that there was one other thing she could tell Hotch that he might like to hear.

"Uh," she turned to give him a little smile, "Haley also did make a point of asking me to tell you that she hoped you felt better."

Given all of the other advice she'd given to Emily, it was clear that Haley was genuinely concerned about his health. Even if it was just a minor illness.

Hotch's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he looked over at Emily, "huh, well that was nice of her."

Emily nodded slowly, "yeah, like I said, she was really cool about it."

Okay, that was good that she told him that part. It was clear that meant something to him.

Hotch leaned back against the headboard . . . things really were getting better between him and Haley.

That was a relief.

Now that he was ready to move onto the next phase of his life, the last thing he wanted was to have any residual issues with her. Well, that was part of the reason. But of course the primary reason was that they had Jack, and for Jack's sake they needed to find a way to be friends.

Not that he didn't still care about Haley, a part of him probably still loved her actually. But those feelings were only a ghost of what they once were. Haley was his past . . . he rolled his head slightly to look at the yawning woman next to him . . . Emily was his future.

Of that he was sure.

And while Emily was taking care of him, she still had the presence of mind to be thinking about his son. And as he thought about it, Hotch realized that took some balls to call Haley. She knew that Hotch had had problems with her in the past, so Emily wouldn't have known if that was going to be an ugly conversation. But she did it for him. And . . . suddenly Hotch felt a wave of love for her . . . she did it for Jack.

His son was going to have an excellent stepmother.

His eyes crinkled as he picked up her hand and squeezed it, "you took care of me and you jumped into the deep end to make a call to my ex-wife. You definitely went above and beyond tonight sweetheart."

Emily turned her head to give him a shy smile, "well, I didn't want you to worry. And I didn't want Haley to get mad at you," her eyes twinkled slightly, "but maybe next week you can pay me back."

Not that payment was in any way required. Nor was this a task that she thought Hotch would do grudgingly. She just thought that this way they could pretend his thanks was actually for a favor.

He quirked his lip up, "sure, what did you have in mind?"

She grinned, "Christmas tree shopping."

Seeing his eyes widen in surprise, Emily tipped her head. "I know it seems a little early but you know Christmas will be here before we know it. And if we get called out of town again, that will totally screw things up."

It was the first year that she could recall that she was this excited about the holiday. Though they weren't actually a family per se, she still wanted to do everything with Jack and Hotch that she would if they were a family.

Decorating the Christmas tree, making cookies, making snowmen, hanging Christmas stockings.

Those were all of the good things that she'd enviously watched from afar all these years. And now that she had her own pseudo family, she didn't want to miss any of it.

He gave her a dimple, "sounds good, and I know Jack would like that too. I doubt I'll be rested up enough for it this weekend but I'm sure Haley will let me pick him up some night for dinner next week and we can go then."

Seeing as this was the second week in a row that he was missing half of his time with Jack . . . which was killing him . . . Hotch was sure that Haley would be okay with that plan.

He felt Emily squeeze his hand. "Yeah, that reminds me, Haley mentioned letting you keep him until Tuesday if you want. So," she smiled, "maybe we could go Tuesday night before we drop him off at her place."

Tuesday was four days from now. Hotch might take a week or so to put the weight back on but he should be pretty much back to normal by mid week, certainly well enough to heft a dead tree carcass around. And if he wasn't, well she was dragging his ass to the doctor whether he liked it or not.

At that unexpected good news about Jack, Hotch grinned, "excellent," he leaned over to kiss Emily as he whispered again against her lips, "that is _excellent_ news."

If all went well, he'd have Emily AND Jack for three days straight, maybe four if he was feeling well enough by tomorrow afternoon to go get him. And that . . . he moved over, sliding Emily down the bed as he deepened the kiss . . . was the best news he'd received in quite some time.

In fact . . . his fingers began to go on a little exploration under her t-shirt . . . with the panicked adrenaline shot he'd had when he woke up, and this extra little good bit of information, he'd just gotten a small burst of energy.

Not a lot of energy, but enough . . . his hands inched higher as her tongue swept into his . . . to have a couple minutes of fun.

Emily bit back a moan as Hotch's thumb began to stroke gently back and forth over her nipple.

It was the same breast that he'd had his head on earlier, and as she remembered the feel of his warm breath tickling her skin, she felt a wave of desire come over her. She hooked her leg over his hip and pressed up into him.

Yes, she knew there would be no sex tonight. Even if they'd already had The Talk, he was clearly in no shape for such activities.

God, it might actually KILL him!

Still though . . . she felt his body responding to hers as her arms slid around his neck . . . that didn't mean that making out like teenagers in their parent's den didn't feel REALLY good too!

Hotch knew that they needed to stop soon before things got totally out of control. For one thing . . . he nibbled his way down her neck before he stopped to leave a little mark of ownership . . . he was WAY too tired to do this right!

It would be horrible. Because even if he told her everything right now, their first time would be absolutely HORRIBLE because he'd have to let her do most of the work and then he'd just be mortified and that could easily ruin their sex life for the next year or so.

So no . . . he reluctantly slid his hands off her fabulously perfect breasts that he had yet to have time to sufficiently map . . . no, it was time to shut this down before he suffered a major blow to his manhood.

That wasn't just a figurative assessment. He also knew that if he got any more worked up without some anticipated release then he might strain something vital! And then where would they be in a couple weeks when they did this for real?

Yeah, screwed. And not in the good way.

As his hands surfaced outside her t-shirt again, Hotch heard Emily whimper in disappointment. And he felt terrible, but really, this wasn't the time.

His fingers glided along the outer curve of her breasts as he propped himself up to look down at her. She was looking up at him with a little pout.

He kissed it away.

And then he rolled over, pulling her to his chest as he whispered apologetically, "I'm sorry sweetheart. We'll add it to the list of things I owe you, okay?"

Emily's mouth twitched and then she snorted, "right, proper good night kiss, a couple of cuddles and one mind blowing orgasm. Write it down."

Hotch shifted his eyes down to hers and they stared at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

He kissed her temple as he chuckled, "I don't really think that's a list I should leave lying around, so if you don't mind, I think I'll just make a mental note."

And really, like she was just getting the ONE! THAT'S why he needed to rest up!

Her eyes crinkled as she snuggled against his chest and mumbled, "as long as you don't forget, a mental note is sufficient."

Hotch reached up to turn out the light. And then, with a contented sigh, he rubbed Emily's back as he closed his eyes. A second later they popped open once more right before he whispered, "I have to get up for a second."

As much as he wanted to sleep with her on his chest, his remaining issues down below weren't going to get resolved with her lying on top of him.

He just needed a moment for that to completely settle down.

Not to mention though . . . she rolled to the side and he pushed himself off the bed . . . he just realized he hadn't gone to the bathroom once all day. Most likely because he was so dehydrated earlier, but now he realized there was a slight pressure on his bladder.

That was good . . . he shuffled over to the bathroom . . . that meant his body was no longer absorbing every drop of moisture like he was a neglected houseplant.

Once Hotch was in the bathroom, Emily pushed herself up again and rubbed her eyes. She was still a little bit horny . . . even though she knew it was necessary, it always sucked when the ref called a foul on the play . . . but she was also tired too.

But she'd sat up because . . . her stomach growled again . . . hunger was becoming the more dominant physiological need at the moment.

God . . . she bit her lip . . . when was the last time she ate something?

The plane.

She had a banana. She had a banana at like three and then they got home a couple hours later. And she climbed into bed with Hotch as soon as they got in and she fell asleep like an hour or so after he did. Admittedly she had been a little hungry then, but not enough to have any desire to slide out from under him so she could go out in the kitchen to make a snack.

But now though . . . she looked up as the bathroom door opened . . . she was starving.

For a second Hotch stood in the doorway with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Then he mumbled around it, "I'm hungry."

Maybe it was just a substitute for sex, but given that he hadn't actually eaten a real meal in almost a week, he had a feeling that food wasn't a euphemism for anything but actual food.

Emily smiled as she pushed back the covers, "yeah I'm hungry too."

It was nice when they were on the same psychic wavelength.

As Hotch stepped into the bathroom again she followed after him so she could brush her own teeth. Hotch had passed out before she did but she'd still been sleeping for at least four hours and her mouth felt fuzzy.

A second later when they were standing in Hotch's bathroom brushing their teeth together, Emily caught Hotch's gaze in the mirror and he winked at her. She smiled around her toothbrush . . . she could definitely get used to doing this.

All these stupid little things that happy couples thought nothing about. These were the best things, the things she didn't want to take for granted.

They spit and rinsed and Emily started to put away her toothpaste and toothbrush and then realized she'd just need it again in the morning so she left her kit on the vanity.

Generally she had a toothbrush of her own at his place but last weekend she'd knocked it off the counter and it fell down behind the toilet. Obviously that one went right in the trash and she'd forgotten to buy a new one tonight when she was in the store.

She made a mental note to get one when she went out tomorrow to check their mail at the office.

As they exited the bathroom Hotch glanced back at her small flowered makeup bag before he hit the light. He always liked to see her stuff mixed in with his stuff.

He could get used to that.

When Hotch turned around he saw that Emily had already started down to the kitchen without him, so he stopped to pull on a pair of blue pajama bottoms he took off the stack of clean laundry on the dresser.

Boxers were fine for sleeping but it was December and the house was chilly.

Speaking of . . . he went over to the closet and pulled a black hooded sweatshirt off the hook . . . Emily was always freezing so she was going to need this.

With hoodie now in hand, Hotch stepped into the hall, pausing to turn up the heat a notch . . . then he thought of Emily and turned it up a second notch . . . before he continued down to the kitchen.

He was still exhausted but at present all he could think about was food.

Emily had her head in the refrigerator but she turned to look up at Hotch when she heard him walk in behind her. When she saw what he was carrying, she straightened up as she gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks, I was just thinking it was cold in here."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he helped her slip on his sweatshirt. Of course she could have done it herself, but he liked to look after her. And as he stepped around in front of Emily to zip her up, he saw her turn her head slightly and inhale.

Emily smiled as she sniffed the jersey collar . . . it smelled like Hotch.

Speaking of . . . she saw him watching her and she reached up to pat his cheek before she went back over to find them something to eat.

Hotch's expression was soft as he looked after her for a moment. He was wondering what she was thinking. If she was really as happy as she looked.

If he was capable of making her that happy all the time.

As he saw Emily taking the deli meat out of the fridge, Hotch's stomach growled and he realized that he could table deep thoughts about his future at least until morning. So for the time being he decided to refocus his thoughts on finding something to eat.

Preferably something to eat that wouldn't make sick again.

He hadn't thrown up in close to thirty-six hours but still, he figured chicken soup and crackers would be the best thing for his battered stomach.

Though . . . he looked over the supplies again . . . he really wanted something greasy. He turned to Emily, "you didn't buy any potato chips did you?"

Emily's lips twitched . . . Haley had been right. She started undoing the twist top on the bread as she answered conversationally, "no, I didn't buy any potato chips," then she looked up at him with a little mock scowl, "not that you would be allowed to have any right now even if I had. You'd be throwing up again five minutes after they hit your stomach."

Hotch sighed as he pulled out the sauce pan for his soup, "yeah, yeah, I know."

Haley used to say that to him too. He knew it was dumb but he couldn't help craving what he craved.

Hearing the note of resignation in his voice, Emily frowned . . . she didn't like it when he was unhappy. So after she took her plate down from the cabinet she went over to pat his back.

When he looked down at her she rubbed her hand along his bicep as she said softly, "if you don't get sick again this weekend then your stomach will probably be up for a few chips by Sunday night. I'll pick some up tomorrow after I stop into the office," she smiled, "okay?"

Hotch huffed to himself as he considered the fact that he was a grown man and Emily was negotiating his potato chip allotment for the weekend. Then his lip quirked up before he squeezed her fingers, "okay."

Just because he was a grown man didn't mean that he was under any delusions that he was allowed to make ALL of his own decisions. Not if he wanted to be part of a couple again anyway. And he most certainly _did_ wish to be entrenched in couplehood once more.

Of course this week he'd put his foot down on the 'continuing to work' argument, but that was an important one. But most of the time, he was happy to negotiate these minor points to diplomatic resolution.

And sometimes . . . if he didn't really feel strongly on the issue one way or another . . . he'd simply defer to Emily's wishes to make her happy.

Which was what he was doing now.

Because his response to her suggestion resulted in her shooting him a little grin, a little grin that warmed his heart. He watched for a second as she continued over to the counter to finish making her sandwich and then he went back to heating up his soup.

As he stirred the broth he turned an amused eyebrow in her direction as he asked jokingly, "so when exactly did you start running my life?"

Not that he minded her input, not at all. It made him happy to know that she cared. But the change in their relationship was so gradual that he honestly wasn't sure when it had happened. One day he was the boss of her, and then another day she was the boss of him. And he had no idea what day that was, but it was probably the best day of his life.

It was probably the day he fell in love.

At Hotch's question, Emily made an exaggerated show of scrunching up her face, "hmm, let's see, I believe that was October 22, 2008 at 2:31 in the afternoon."

Hotch chuckled as he started ladling his soup into a bowl, "that's a pretty specific answer." To which Emily smiled mischievously, "well you said 'when exactly.' That was a pretty specific question."

Though she knew he was joking, there was some truth to his question. And she wasn't sure when exactly it had happened either.

Sometime in the fall.

Not that she felt that she 'ran' his life. But there was definitely a shift one day where she started feeling free to fully and freely share any and all thoughts and opinions as it pertained to him and the decisions that he made.

Off duty of course.

With his mouth twitching, Hotch carried his bowl over to the kitchen table and Emily went to fill two glasses of water from the filter dispenser in the refrigerator door.

After she placed those on the blue and white geometric pattern placemats that she'd picked out for him at IKEA, she went back to the fridge again and took out another one of the Ensures.

"Here," she put the little bottle down next to his soup bowl, "I think you should keep drinking these for the next day or so until you start getting your strength back." Her gaze ran over the deep circles under his eyes, and his slightly too noticeable cheekbones before she added worriedly, "you definitely lost a few pounds this week and you didn't have any fat on you to begin with," she pointed at the bottle as she instructed firmly, "these things have protein and nutrients in them so drink up."

Okay . . . her thoughts stuttered for a second . . . she hadn't noticed how often she did tell him what to do until he brought it up. But, really . . . she kissed his forehead before she moved over to the chair next to him . . . it was for his own good.

Hotch shook the bottle as he answered with a crisp, "yes ma'am." Emily shot him an eyebrow before her mouth started to quiver at the look of amusement on his face.

Then her own amusement started to fade as a thought came to her. She tipped her head as she asked him worriedly, "do _you_ think I'm too bossy sometimes? Because you know I don't mean to be. I just want what's best for you."

She didn't interject just for the sake of having input, she just did it because she loved him and wanted him to be happy and stay healthy. And it bothered her to see that sometimes he wasn't as focused on his own well being as much as she would like.

THAT'S when she spoke up.

Hearing the concern in her voice Hotch's brow darkened as he shook his head vehemently, "not at all sweetheart. You know I was just joking," he brushed her hair back, "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you care enough to even make the effort. I know for awhile," he gave her a sad smile, "a lot of people have considered me a lost cause."

He'd heard the gossip. Half the bullpen, and probably half of the other chiefs had thought he was going to burn out in six months.

Emily scowled at him as she reached over to squeeze his hand, "hey, don't say things like that. You just had a bad time for awhile, but you were NEVER a lost cause. I certainly never gave up on you. Not once. Neither did Rossi, or anyone else on the team. And nobody else's opinion matters," her voice hardened, "screw them. They don't know us. So I don't want you to listen to that crap or focus in on those kinds of thoughts, okay?"

That was bullshit. She'd heard the gossip too and she'd shut it down, usually pretty ruthlessly. One set of paralegals were left crying in the ladies room after Emily heard them repeating something they'd heard from their chief. But she'd always hoped that Hotch had been oblivious to it. The last thing he needed with all of the other shit he'd been dealing with last year was to hear people whispering behind his back.

They didn't have the first clue what was going on with him so they had no right to have an opinion, let alone to judge.

And besides, he was so much better now. And as proof, she watched as the smile spread to his eyes, and then he nodded as he kissed the back of her hand.

"Okay," he said huskily, "thank you."

She leaned over to give him a quick buss on the lips before she finally picked up her sandwich and chomped down.

Now that that other stuff had been addressed, she was once again conscious of how hungry she was! She probably hadn't eaten anything in almost twelve hours and now she had such low blood sugar that her head was killing her.

Though . . . she started chewing more slowly . . . her head had been hurting a lot lately. Her fingers glided up to her temple . . . and always on the left side.

Not to mention the dizziness she'd started noticing the last few weeks. She had been dismissing both things for all kinds of different reasons because it was probably nothing.

But . . . she started to feel a little ball of fear forming . . . what if it wasn't nothing?

What if it was something?

She wasn't a doctor, what the hell did she know about what was causing her headaches and dizziness? So it would probably be pretty stupid to not at least make an appointment and make sure that it was nothing.

Those were vague symptoms and there could be lots of reasons for them. Some could be very benign. Like maybe her hormones were out of whack.

No . . . she bit her lip worriedly . . . that probably wouldn't explain the headaches.

Oh . . . another thought came to her and she started to feel the knot in her stomach lessen slightly . . . but maybe, maybe it was some kind of ear or sinus infection.

Yeah . . . the ball of fear eased up a bit more . . . that would definitely explain her dizziness and the headaches.

Pressure on the sinuses or eardrums caused headaches. And of course that would mess up her equilibrium. Okay, then . . . she nodded to herself . . . so she'll call tomorrow and go get checked next week. Confirm what she had just decided . . . that it was nothing serious, just a sinus thing . . . and then she would stop thinking about it.

Hotch looked over to see Emily rubbing the side of her head as she stared at the center of the table. Her sandwich was back on the plate and she looked a little pale.

He narrowed his eyes as he asked worriedly, "you're not getting sick too are you?"

Really, he was going to feel horrible if she picked up what he had.

Startled at Hotch's question, Emily jumped slightly as she looked over at him in confusion, "what?" Then she processed what he'd said and she shook her head, "oh, no, no, I feel okay. I was just thinking about . . ."

And she paused. She never lied to him, not about anything important, but in this instance she thought a half truth was better than a whole one. So she finished a little awkwardly, "a, um," she swallowed, "a doctor's appointment next week."

She did plan to call the doctor's office in the morning and get an appointment for next week. Therefore, she really _was_ thinking about going to the doctor and therefore she had _not _lied to him. And as she saw his hand still right before he put the spoon back in the bowl, she knew that she had made the right choice going with the half truth.

Hotch felt his stomach turn and he knew it had nothing to do with the bug he'd picked up this week. His fingers folded over hers as he asked uneasily, "but everything's okay, right?"

Because he had heard the hesitation before she answered him. And she'd looked troubled when she was staring at the table.

And as he thought about those two things together he started feeling more than a little panicky. He really wasn't sure what he would do if everything wasn't okay. They occasionally had to go to the E.R. for injuries or minor ailments like this stupid stomach bug.

But scheduled trips to doctors were rare. And he knew that Emily had just had her regular checkup and a trip to her gynecologist a couple months ago. And the reason he knew that for sure was because she mentioned in October that she always set up everything for just after her birthday so that she wouldn't forget.

So why would she need to go to the doctor again now unless there was something wrong?

Seeing the worry in Hotch's eyes would just be exacerbated tenfold if she mentioned her cumulative symptoms, Emily quickly moved to alleviate his fears.

She squeezed his hand consolingly as she gave him a little smile, "yeah, honey, everything's okay. It's just a, uh," she cleared her throat," follow-up from my check-up a couple months ago,"

She tried to think of a plausible lie that wouldn't make her feel too horrible. Then she settled on one that had actually happened in the past.

"It turns out the lab forgot to run the cholesterol when they did my blood panel so the doctor wanted me to come back and get some more blood taken." She smiled reassuringly, making sure it went to her eyes, "no biggie."

It wasn't fair to get him worked up needlessly when she had no legitimate reason to think that there was anything to be concerned about. After this week she knew intimately how awful it was to be helplessly worrying about the health of somebody that you loved, and she didn't want to do that to him. Certainly not when she had so little to tell him.

His imagination would be going wild.

No . . . she started to feel more comfortable with her decision to keep this to herself for now . . . no, by next week she'd know for sure that it was just her sinuses or something else minor and then she'd tell him what was going on in a passing nonsense conversation.

The scales would be even again.

Feeling relief flood his system, Hotch let out his breath as his own eyes crinkled in response to her statement, "okay, good." He shot her a dimple as he picked up his spoon again, "you had me pretty worried there for a second. I thought something was wrong."

Missing cholesterol tests were fine though. Like she said . . . no biggie.

Feeling her eyes burn, Emily bit her lip as looked over at him. And that was _exactly_ why she didn't want to tell him.

She slid back her chair, and then stood in front of him with a little pout on her face.

With his mouth twitching, Hotch put his spoon down again and pushed himself away from the table as well. She sat down in his lap, and as he wrapped her up, she put her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. Then she whispered, "you had me pretty worried there for a second too," she brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead, "don't get sick again, okay?"

Holding her possessively around the waist, Hotch rested his head in the crook of her neck.

"I promise if you promise," he whispered.

They were quiet for a moment and then Emily leaned back, smiling softly as she patted his cheek, "deal."

And that's why she was going to go to the doctor and get this headache thing sorted out right away. Probably all she needed was some antibiotics and that would fix her right up. The more she thought about it the more confident she was that was all it was. So there was no reason to make him worry needlessly.

It was nothing.

Hotch's expression was soft as he looked up at her . . . she was so beautiful. No makeup, just woken up by a crazy man yelling in the middle of the night and she was still the most beautiful woman he knew.

And he knew that smile was just for him.

He wasn't a fool, if he knew nothing else of the world, he knew that smile had been just for him for more than a month now. It was just that before hadn't been ready to do anything about it.

But now he was ready. Now he was ready for the next part of his life to begin.

So he leaned up, kissing her gently. And when he pulled away he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand as he said softly, "we should have dinner next week, someplace nice. I think . . ." a bit of his insecurity tried to step up but he brushed it aside as his voice firmed up, "I think maybe we should talk."

She would know what that meant. And though he had no doubt at all that Emily would be receptive to this, he was still a bit nervous. This was it, the big, monumental, 'things would never be the same again,' shift.

This past week had shown him the wonderful possibilities to be found on that side of the fence. Before he'd been so worried that he'd screw things up. But really, things were just getting better and better. He was ready for all the rest.

Well emotionally and psychologically anyway. Physically though . . . he stifled a yawn . . . he was obviously not up to par. But he figured in a week he'd definitely be feeling like himself again. Both for taking her out to a nice restaurant for their first official date, and for having MORE than sufficient energy to finish what they almost started a little while ago.

Even if he couldn't wait until Christmas, he still wanted her to have a perfect day.

Feeling a burst of Joy Emily looked down at him in delight.

"You know that I LOVE to talk!" she responded excitedly. Both dimples popped out in response to her answer and she traced their outline as she grinned, "so yes, I'd like that very much."

THIS WAS IT! This was THE TALK! IT HAD A DAY! Actually, not only did it have a DAY, it was a DATE! A real 'honest to God, like normal people who fell in love,' DATE!

With her arms still clasped around his neck, Emily leaned down to kiss him. And when she slowly pulled away a few seconds later their eyes caught. And for the first time she could truly see everything that he wanted to say. And she knew that this was it. He was the last man she was ever going to kiss, the last man to ever share her bed. This would be the father of her children.

It had taken forty years but clearly . . . she brushed her thumb along his cheek . . . the prize had been worth all the duds along the way.

Suddenly realizing that they couldn't stare at each other with googly eyes all night . . . Hotch was undoubtedly going to crash again soon and she wanted some food in his system before that happened . . . Emily ruffled his hair affectionately before scooting off his lap and back to her own seat.

Next week was for talking, this week was for getting him better.

When she sat down Emily saw that he was still staring at her so she gestured to his soup with a little smile, "you should finish up before it gets cold."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he picked up his spoon for the third time that night.

"Yes ma'am."

* * *

_A/N 2: The "yes, ma'am" is from The Hours. It's sort of Hotch's own version of 'as you wish.'_

_If you'd seen my profile note, you'll know much drama this week with this damn chapter. I finished it like Tuesday and then it disappeared completely. All the changes I mean. So I did three million search options and finally accepted that somehow (inexplicably) it was just gone. Fortunately the prior draft was on my laptop so I had something to work with but I had lost like 3500 words from the final. I was MOST distressed! Finally I accepted the truth of the situation and started cleaning it up again. That would be this one. And clearly this was not one that could simply be skipped. _

_Initially I had not planned on doing the Christmas tree chapter but we haven't seen Jack in forever so I think I'll write that one. That will be from scratch so it'll be a few days. And then I have one written called "Missed Clues" which is one more instance of Emily's symptoms popping up and her deflection of them from Hotch. After that I'll be putting up the VERY end. I'm planning on revamping the original opening of The Hours and using that as the close out here. Still, much work to do on that though. But we're basically just about done, just the three left. _

_Hopefully you're enjoying the wrap up :) I'm planning on putting up a Fracture sometime this weekend too._


	133. Sundays in the Bathroom with Emily

**Author's Note:** We last left our favorite duo around one am on Saturday morning. This is a completely fluffy little snippet picking up with them early Sunday morning.

**Related Posting**: If you just have this story on alert and not me by author name, I put a Girl offshoot up last night. It's called _Making Spirits Bright_, it's a missing scene from Christmas season 3.

* * *

**Prompt Set #15**

**Show**: The Days & Nights of Molly Dodd

**Title:** Here's Why You Should Lock Your Bathroom Door

* * *

_Early December: Sunday_

**Sundays in the Bathroom with Emily**

Emily buried her face into her hands as she moaned.

"God Hotch, how am I supposed to FACE him? And, oh GEEZ," her head snapped up, "what's Haley going to say?"

They just had that great talk where his ex blessed their non-relationship and now she'd gone and done THIS!

"Sweetheart," Hotch pushed himself up off the bed as he shook his head dismissively, "don't ever worry about Haley. She's my problem, not yours." He crossed the bedroom to stand in front of Emily, "and really," he ran his hands down her bare arms, "I don't think the other thing is as big a deal as you're worried that it is."

At least he hoped it wasn't. Really though, it was bound to happen eventually. It happened in every family eventually.

Though . . . he restrained his eye roll . . . it would have been nice if it hadn't happened TODAY. Today, barely two days after they'd arrived home and when he was still not feeling one hundred percent. He'd been hoping to not have to deal with crises of any kind for at least another twenty-four hours.

Really though, as crises went . . . regardless of the pout on Emily's face . . . he knew that this fell onto the negligible end of the crises scale. Emily was not yet used to living with little children and she had forgotten to lock the bathroom when she went in to take a shower. Then his four year old son had a nature call, opened the unlocked door and . . . unbeknownst to Emily . . . followed her inside.

That kind of thing happened every day in households all around the world.

Unfortunately on THIS day, in THIS household, Emily finished her shower, pulled back the curtain, saw Jack and screamed.

Screamed loud enough to scare the crap out of both Jack AND Hotch.

Really, Hotch had moved faster than he had in a week as he ran in from the kitchen to see what had happened. As Jack streaked past him running down the hall, Hotch spun around to see Emily half wrapped in the shower curtain as she frantically flapped her hand at him.

She said she'd been so startled to see Jack standing there that she'd screamed and then apparently Jack had been so startled that she screamed that he'd run to hide under the bed.

That was about six minutes ago.

Hotch had already coaxed his son out from the bed and now he was attempting to coax his undeclared girlfriend down from the ledge.

Seeing the pout was persisting he kissed it before pulling the still drippy, towel clad Emily against his chest.

"Emily," he said consolingly, "these things happen when you have little kids. He's walked in on me, he's walked in on Haley. I specifically remember Sean doing it once to my mother and her screaming like the house was on fire. Sean doesn't even remember that happening, and most likely Jack won't remember this happening either. He's only four. How many memories do you have from when you were four?"

Sean was actually the same age as Jack when he walked in on their mother . . . she was getting out of the bathtub. And it should go without saying that his genteel mother was a very prim and proper woman who never in a million years had anticipated such a turn of events. Honest to God she'd screamed so loud the neighbors showed up.

Later that night Hotch remembered listening (eavesdropping) as his father gave his mother the 'sweetheart, these things just happen' speech. It had gone over like a lead balloon.

Hotch had better hopes for Emily's response.

Still pouting, Emily pulled her head back to look at Hotch, "you _swear_ that this is normal and he'll forget about it and I won't be remembered in his memoirs as that pervy lady that turned him off women forever?"

Okay yes, she did perhaps acknowledge that her reasoning there sounded completely ridiculous when said aloud. But GOD, he was FOUR! He was four and totally just saw her totally not clothing covered front!

What's that going to DO to him?

"Um sweetheart," Hotch's mouth quivered, "putting aside for a moment the complex physiological and psychological basis for homosexuality, I can assure you that if a moment like this were to play _any_ part in someone's psychosexual development, seeing YOU would," his eyes dropped down to see her gorgeous curves wrapped only in a damp piece of terry cloth, "most ASSUREDLY spin things in the other direction."

Though he would OBVIOUSLY prefer that his son had not seen anything, either way Hotch had his own family's anecdotal evidence and stacks of case studies that proved such an innocuous event as a quick accidental flash in the bathroom would have no effect on him one way or the other.

Emily's felt her cheeks warm slightly at his praise as her own eyes dropped down to look at her minimal apparel. Then she realized that she was getting pushed off topic and she looked back up at him.

"You're just trying to distract me," she said in irritation.

She knew that he was still tired and didn't really want to deal with this . . . and she was sympathetic to that . . . but she was serious that she was afraid that she'd totally messed things up with Jack today. Even if he didn't consciously remember it when he was forty that didn't mean he wasn't going to be affected by it. And Hotch telling her that she was hot in a towel wasn't going to make her forget that she was upset about what happened.

But then he started waggling his eyebrows suggestively and her lips began to twitch right before she burst out laughing, "okay, okay," she smacked his chest, "I get it!"

All right apparently he was quite serious in his approval of the towel. Fine . . . she huffed slightly . . . she could perhaps see how that might be a little treat for him.

And . . . a thought occurred to her . . . that might just be the way to get him to do what she needed him to do.

So she pulled him tightly against her front as she gave him a saucy smile, "you can holster those eyebrows for now," her own eyebrow shot up suggestively, "but maybe if they're good they can come out and play later."

Just because they weren't having sex yet (six days and counting if the talk went according to plan) didn't mean that other fun towel related activities were off the agenda.

Hotch's face lit up, "really?"

Excellent! He was just trying to distract her from her worries. Because really, after their aborted make out session the other night he was sure that he'd have red lights for the rest of the week.

Green was of course still out until they talked but he'd sure as hell take a yellow!

"Yes," Emily nodded as she kissed him again before she murmured against his lips, "really."

Feeling Hotch's hand starting to slide into the flap of her towel she waited until his fingers reached her bare hip before she stepped back.

"But first," she crossed her arms at her chest as she said in her most business like tone, "please go make sure that I haven't scarred your son for life."

Though Hotch had said he was fine when he first came back in the room, Emily thought that was fine in the sense that he was no longer hiding under the bed. She needed to make sure he was fine in all senses of the word.

Hotch's jaw dropped as he yelped in astonishment, "TEASE!"

What the hell? He had been on the verge of copping a VERY good feel!

"NO," she wagged her finger at him as she said firmly, "no, tease. You were told to holster those eyebrows until LATER!"

Like they were doing ANYTHING with Jack in the next room! Let alone anything with her still freaking out about Jack being possibly scarred for LIFE in the next room! And there was NO teasing. She had just seen an opportunity to make sure that he was properly motivated to go have a conversation that he didn't want to have. Now he had a treat to look forward to if he did as she asked.

B.F. Skinner would be proud.

Hotch's eyebrows knitted together as he scowled at her, then he muttered something under his breath that she couldn't hear.

So Emily put her hand up to her ear. "What was that?"

Hotch shook his head before he grumbled, "nothing."

He was pretty sure that if he repeated what he'd just said that there would be no fun . . . towel or otherwise . . . for the remainder of the day.

So . . . being careful to keep his huffing to himself . . . Hotch stepped around Emily and headed out of the bedroom and back into the hall.

Emily made sure he'd turned in the direction of the living room before she shut . . . and locked . . . the door. Then she went over to start rifling through her ready bag to find something to put on that wasn't made out of terrycloth.

/

As Hotch stepped into the living room he saw Jack giggling at SpongeBob. His remaining irritation instantly faded as a faint smile touched his lips.

His sweet boy.

And that's when he remembered again that Emily was just worried about Jack. And if this would make her feel better . . . and he could ask his questions without actually causing a problem where there wasn't one . . . then everyone would be happy and they could move on with their day.

Okay . . . he took a breath as he sat down onto the couch next to Jack . . . he interviewed violent offenders for a living, so this little conversation with his son shouldn't be THAT hard to navigate.

And knowing that Jack was completely distracted as long as the yellow sponge was on the screen, Hotch waited until the commercial break before he put the TV on mute. Then he reached over to pull his son into his lap.

"Hey buddy," he kissed his cheek as he pulled him back against his chest.

Jack immediately snuggled into his side as he responded happily, "hi daddy," and Hotch felt a pang of melancholy as he realized that it wouldn't be long before his boy would be too old to want to cuddle.

Okay . . . he shook his head . . . not the issue for today Aaron. Focus.

Right, focus. Though it was admittedly rather hard to think of a way to broach the topic of his four year old son's feelings about seeing a naked woman. And he was actually trained to talk about feelings in general but he just didn't know where to begin.

Just jump into it . . . a little voice in his head yelled . . . Jack's too little for artifice or euphemisms. That was a good point. So he jumped.

"Did you see Miss Emily in the bathroom bud?"

The earlier discussion when Hotch dragged him out from under the bed was simply to assure Jack that Miss Emily wasn't angry with him. That she'd been screaming because she'd seen a bug. Yes, it was crap and Hotch didn't like to lie to his son, but Jack was fine with bugs.

If he'd actually thought Emily . . . whom he adored . . . was screaming in horror at seeing his little face in the bathroom, well THAT actually might have been enough trauma to cause some scarring.

"Uh huh," Jack nodded as he winced at the memory, "she was noisy."

Hotch snorted, "right," he cleared his throat, "she was noisy, but what uh, else did you see?"

He could of course make suggestions on possible things Jack could have seen, but he'd hoped to avoid having that conversation with his son until he was about twelve.

Then he realized how fast kids were growing up these days and he jiggled his head . . . maybe eleven.

"It was smoky daddy," Jack suddenly blurted out worriedly.

Hotch's brow wrinkled at Jack's response . . . why did he sound worried? And what the hell did smoky mean?

STEAMY! It was STEAMY when he opened the door!

He looked down hopefully, "so you couldn't see _anything_ in the bathroom?"

Please God, tell me it really is this easy.

"Uh, uh," Jack whipped his head back and forth sadly, "I had'ed go potty but it was smoky and I . . . I" his lip started to quiver as he looked up at Hotch, "I missed'ded the toilet."

"Oh," Hotch's brow wrinkled in worry as he immediately went to reassure Jack that he hadn't done anything wrong, "it's okay buddy, don't get upset," he kissed his son's temple, "accidents happen. I'm not mad."

Okay, apparently Jack thought he was having this conversation with him because he'd made a mess in the bathroom. Hotch hadn't even been back into the bathroom so he had no idea if there was a mess there or not.

But he'd deal with that later. And once he saw the lip stop quivering, Hotch refocused on the topic at hand as he pulled his son closer and murmured against his hair, "so you missded," he rolled his eyes, "MISSED, the bowl and it was smoky and then what?"

This cuddling on the couch thing was certainly a new approach to his standard interrogation techniques.

"Miss Emily was noisy and I runned away."

Noting the casual disinterest in his son's last statement, Hotch realized that SpongeBob had reappeared on the television. But as he stopped and thought for a minute about what he'd learned in their two minute conversation his lip quirked up.

He'd already learned everything he needed to know . . . it was smoky, Miss Emily was loud and then Jack runned away.

She'd scared him off before the steam had cleared enough for him to see anything.

"Emily," he yelled over his shoulder, "it's safe to come out now!"

As Hotch thought back he remembered that it had been steamy in the bathroom. Less so when he arrived because the door had been opened by the time he got there, but still, what Jack said did make sense. They'd just woken up a half hour ago and the heat hadn't come up yet when Emily went into the bathroom. So the hot water hitting the cold air would have fogged things up pretty quickly.

Thank God.

Noting that Emily hadn't appeared yet Hotch turned his head to see her hovering in the hallway now dressed in sweats and a hoodie with her wet hair up in a bun.

When Hotch put his hand out, Emily cautiously entered the living room and came over to squeeze his fingers.

"Well," she whispered nervously as she peeked down at Jack curled up in his lap. He seemed okay. And then Hotch looked up at her as he said with a smirk.

"It was smoky in the bathroom."

For a second she stared at him in utter confusion . . . what the . . . she didn't smoke.

And then light dawned and a huge grin spread across her face . . . it was SMOKEY in the bathroom!

_He didn't SEE anything! YES! Oh, thank you God!_

Seeing that Emily had figured it out, Hotch winked at her as he tugged on her hand. She walked around to sit down on his other side before she leaned over to place a kiss on Jack's cheek.

Of course he started to giggle as he scooted further into Hotch's side and she smiled.

All right, everything was normal. Neither she nor Jack would have to have counseling and if he was in the house she would never again take a bath or shower without locking the door first.

Emily turned to Hotch to see he was staring at her with undisguised amusement. Then his eyebrow went up expectantly and she rolled her eyes.

"_Fine_," she snuggled into his side, "YOU were right," she sighed, "yada, yada . . . yada."

Hotch tipped his head down to whisper, "and . . ."

Emily's mouth quivered . . . of course, how could she forget?

She leaned up to press her lips her lips to his ear, "_and_ when Jack goes to bed," she nipped his earlobe, "you can get the end of your towel fashion show."

That should be fun . . . she thought back to the sensation of Hotch's hand on her hip . . . oh yeah, that should be LOTS of fun!

Hotch's lip quirked up as he turned to look at her. Then he shot a quick glance down to see Jack giggling as he stared at the television . . . all right, that's a teeny window of distraction. So he turned his head and smacked a quick kiss on Emily's lips. She winked at him and his lips twitched before he slipped his arm around her shoulder.

_Excellent! Towel fashion show tonight! Definitely needed to rest up._

After he closed his eyes Hotch felt Emily snuggle into his side again. And as her breast brushed against his arm his lip quirked up . . . hmm, maybe he could convince her to work a hand towel into the fashion line up.

Wait . . . a better image came to him . . . a FACECLOTH!

_No you idiot, she wouldn't go for that. She probably won't go for the hand towel either. You're getting greedy. _

Okay . . . he sighed . . . regular towel it is. But next week, post the talk, he was going to broach the topic of hand towel toga.

And in the meantime . . . a faint smile touched his lips . . . a guy could dream.

* * *

_A/N 2: If you live with a very small child and never had him/her barge in on you in the bathroom, your day is coming. My father ended up building an entire dividing wall in front of the toilet in the downstairs bathroom because my brother (before I was born) used to whip the door open all the time. He was three and this was the bathroom right off the kitchen. The one that company used. But you figure Emily's an only child and has been living alone her whole adult life. She's "spoiled" thinking that simply SHUTTING the door would actually keep other people out of the bathroom. Silly Emily. You gotta learn that one the hard way. _

_This whole thing was actually inspired by a line I wrote in Fracture where Hotch makes reference to remembering not to barge into the bathroom when Emily was there. Then I was looking over the prompts and I suddenly pictured Jack having to go potty and here we are. This was an UNplanned chapter, but hey, you got one more snuggling on the couch scene so that's something. I'll try and get the Christmas tree shopping up by next week and then hopefully we'll be able to wind up those last couple of chapters and get The Hours started up again in May. _


	134. O'Christmas Tree

**Author's Note**: Two postings in one day! Wa hooh!

As promised, tree shopping . . . and a little more stuff at the end ;)

* * *

_Early December: Tuesday  
_

**O' Christmas Tree**

Hotch spun the blue spruce around trying to find the defect in it. From the _front_ it looked perfect . . . and given their tree scouting luck so far that evening . . . that meant that there had to be something wrong with it.

Ah . . . he scowled . . . yes, a whole batch of brown needles on the other side. Of course.

Hotch leaned it back against the row with a disgusted huff.

It was Tuesday night and they were moving into the second half hour of their search for the "perfect" Christmas tree for Emily's apartment. Actually he wasn't all that fussy, he was just thrilled beyond words that he was going to be spending the Christmas season with the woman he loved.

Those plans were not in doubt.

They were having The Talk on Sunday afternoon. He'd already made reservations for Mie N Yu (Emily's favorite restaurant) for ninety minutes after they dropped Jack off at Haley's. The plan was to have an early dinner in one of the private rooms where he was going to say all of the things that he'd been terrified to say two months ago.

Given the events of the past couple weeks he was quite sure that she already knew what most of those things were. But still . . . they needed to be said aloud.

There could be no doubt in her mind how much he adored her.

And then they were going to go home . . . his place or hers, didn't matter . . . and make love until, well, . . . he was fine on winging it in terms of an actual 'block of time' provided Emily had had five or six orgasms by the time he passed out with her glorious naked body on top of him.

He felt that five was a solid number to aim for as an apology for it taking so ridiculously long to get his act together.

Not that he thought that he could GO five times . . . he'd need a half a bottle of viagara and a time machine back to his nineteenth year on the planet for that to happen.

But fortunately . . . his lips twitched as he remembered her reaction to what he did with his fingers the other night . . . the towel fashion show had been a good jumping off point for next week's activities.

So he was QUITE sure that he'd reach his intended goal before the sun came up the next morning.

But . . . he shook his head to refocus . . . that was five days away. Tonight he needed to make her happy in a whole other way.

By finding her the perfect Christmas tree.

Again, he wasn't all that fussy, but this was important to her . . . so it was important to him.

And that meant . . . he started spinning around another spruce . . . if they had to go tree shopping at every lot in the area this week, then that's what they'd do.

They couldn't stay at this one too much longer though. He had to get Jack back to Haley's by 7:30. And it was presently closing in on 6:40, so if they didn't find the tree in the next fifteen minutes then they needed to get going and pick this tree hunt up again tomorrow.

Unfortunately that would be tree hunting sans Jack. But if they didn't get the tree in the early part of the week then the branches wouldn't fall in time for them to decorate over the weekend.

After determining that the new tree he was holding was also a dud . . . it had some sort of mold on the trunk . . . Hotch turned to see Jack and Emily at the other end of the lot. His lip quirked up as he saw Emily carrying his son on her hip as they both looked at the tree the attendant was spinning for her.

Even after all these months he couldn't stop that burst of happiness he felt every time he saw the two of them together. And he'd love to be down there with them right now, but ten minutes ago he and Emily had decided to split up so they could cover more ground.

Actually they hadn't so much "decided" as he'd seen Emily pout in disappointment as they looked at the twelfth bad tree, and he'd had his usual Pavlovian response.

He had to make things better.

And she really was hoping to get the tree tonight while they had Jack, so he'd left the two of them with a kiss on the cheek and a "be a good boy for Miss Emily" to his son before he'd headed down to the rows of trees on the other side of the lot.

The selection was about the same in quality but these were the spruce as opposed to the pines that she was perusing.

Hotch was about to move to the next row when he heard a little voice calling out from behind him.

"DADDY! DADDY! WE FOUNDED THE BESTEST TREE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!"

Feeling one of his dimples slide out, Hotch turned around to see Emily and Jack walking up behind him.

With a wink to the pink cheeked Emily, Hotch put his hand out to take her mitten clad fingers . . . pink to match her scarf . . . as he directed his remarks to the little boy on her hip.

"The bestest tree in the whole wide world, huh? That's got to be a pretty good tree," his eyebrow quirked up at he looked back at Emily, "so how about it Miss Emily, does it deserve the Christmas angel?"

He knew that Jack had Emily wrapped around his little finger, so he just hoped that she really did like the tree and wasn't just going along with this one as the pick because she couldn't say no to his boy.

Emily looked over at him in mock amazement, "daddy, if Jack tells you it's the bestest tree in he whole wide world then clearly it is the bestest tree in the whole wide world."

Aesthetically it was about on average . . . certainly no defects . . . but it was The One because it was the one that Jack had picked out.

She kissed his soft little cheek . . . and _that's_ what made it the perfect tree.

With a shrug, Hotch slipped his arm around Emily's shoulders, "okay, let's go see the perfect tree." The three of them walked back down to the tree that Emily had left leaning at the end of the aisle.

Hotch's eyebrow rose appraisingly as he hefted the seven foot tall pine off the wall and spun it around.

_Good color, no bald needle spots, no mold, nice and full. Yep . . . this was indeed a good tree._

He looked over at Emily and Jack watching him closely and he nodded firmly, "I have to agree buddy. This is indeed the bestest tree in the whole wide world."

His endorsement resulted in a fist pump and a "YES!" from Jack and Emily started to crack up. First Hotch's lips twitched but then he couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face as he looked over at the two of them.

His family.

One might not yet be official . . . official status would be the talk coming sometime after the one this weekend . . . but that's what she was. The amazing thing to him was that both Emily and Jack had barely been with him for three years, and yet he couldn't imagine living in a world without either them in it.

He couldn't even conceive of it.

Still holding the tree with one hand, Hotch crossed over and kissed Jack on the forehead and then Emily on the corner of the mouth.

She winked at him in response.

Though he and Emily were, without a doubt, "fully coupled," Hotch wasn't yet comfortable kissing her on the mouth in front of Jack. But that was simply because he wanted to tell Haley about his relationship with Emily before she found out via Jack blurting out that he saw Daddy and Miss Emily kissing.

Haley deserved better than that.

But Hotch couldn't very well have the conversation with Haley until he had the official conversation with Emily. As a rule it's probably best to tell the woman that you're in love with that you love her BEFORE you make that announcement to your ex. If there was a manual for these things . . . which Hotch was sad to say there was not . . . he was quite sure that one would be a heavily underlined "Relationship Don't."

Fortunately though, he and Emily had always been demonstrative in front of Jack, so real on the mouth kissing was the extent of the physical affection that had to be curtailed when his son was in the room.

Emily shifted Jack slightly in her arms as they walked through the rows of scented trees.

It might have seemed a little silly to somebody else, but for her . . . just buying a Christmas tree with the two of them . . . this was a wonderful day. Because picking out a Christmas tree was something that a family did together.

And she FINALLY . . . she smacked a sloppy kiss on Jack's cheek . . . had a family.

Okay Jack was kinda borrowed, and she was going to have to give him back soon. But he was definitely more hers now than he used to be. Back when she and Hotch were just friends with no thought of more.

But now there was much more coming.

Someday . . . her eyes crinkled as she looked down at the little boy on her hip . . . she would have a baby of her own. And Jack would be that's baby's big brother.

That was a fact that Emily knew as surely as she did her own name.

Hmm . . . a warmth spread through her chest as she started smacking more kisses on his chubby cheek . . . maybe by next Christmas they would be four in the tree lot instead of three.

Hotch heard Jack starting to giggle and he looked down to see Emily smothering his son in kisses. His mouth quivered before he whispered in her ear, "hey, you're supposed to save some of those for me."

It had already been agreed that he'd be sleeping over. For one thing he needed to go back to her place to put the tree up. And for another, well he had no desire to leave her.

Ever.

Emily shot Hotch a saucy grin over Jack's head . . . she had way better things in store for daddy tonight.

Seeing the look Emily gave him, Hotch smirked back at her as they walked up to the register . . . it was nice to see they were on the same page for their plans later. By unspoken agreement a full home run was being tabled until after their special dinner. But in the meantime there was still much fun to be had by running all the bases before he hit one out of the park.

He'd almost finished his mapping of those fabulous breasts.

And fortunately the lingering after effects of his illness were no longer really dragging him down. He still needed to put a few pounds back on, but Emily was continuing to ply him with Ensures three times a day so he figured he'd be back to his proper weight soon enough.

Basically he was feeling just fine so whatever his girl wanted to do tonight, he was most definitely all for it.

Though . . . he scowled slightly as he saw her start to dig her wallet out of her jeans . . . he wasn't fine with her paying for the tree.

He shook his head at her as he propped the pine tree against the register so he could pull out his own money.

Though the tree was going up in her house, he knew it was for both of them. And he wasn't about to let her pay for something that was as much hers as his.

That just wasn't happening.

Emily rolled her eyes good naturedly as Hotch pulled the cash out of his wallet and passed the woman three twenties. As the nature of their relationship started to shift, the more he had begun insisting on paying for everything. Take out, gas, groceries . . . Christmas trees. Pretty much everything.

Everything but coffee.

He did still take turns with her on that one item. But she knew that was because they were generally on duty when they were out getting coffee together. So that was him trying to separate their two worlds by acknowledging that divide.

But _off_ duty . . . since The Fight . . . Emily had found that her money was no good with him.

At first the little feminist voice in her head tried to tell her that she should be more assertive about asserting her financial independence from him. That it was important to keep some boundaries, that it was the way modern women lived their lives.

Emily had told that voice to stuff it. Because she knew that this was Alpha Hotch taking care of 'his' woman.

It was incredibly hot.

As was watching him sliding his change back into his wallet, scratching his chin and asking the woman if she had any netting for the tree.

Okay, yeah . . . Emily took a slow breath . . . pretty much everything he did today was driving her nuts.

But that was the little side effect of the towel fashion show on Sunday. Things had taken another step forward in the physical intimacy arena and now she couldn't WAIT until they had their big conversation and they could finally go for the main event!

Because seriously . . . Hotch's opening acts were muy caliente!

"Miss Emily," Jack patted her shoulder, "I hafta go potty."

And with those six little words there came the metaphorical dousing of Emily's racing libido.

She looked down at Jack . . . all thoughts of Hotch's magical fingers pushed aside . . . as she instantly slipped into Miss Emily mode.

"Okay baby," she gave him a little smile, "just hold it for one minute."

She adjusted her grip on him as she walked over to Hotch where he and the attendant had started wrapping up the tree. Then she leaned down slightly to whisper in his ear, "I'm taking him to the bathroom."

Hotch turned to look at Emily before his brow wrinkled slightly, "I don't think there is one."

It was an outdoor Christmas tree lot set up in an auxiliary parking lot of a small strip mall. And everything in the mall had closed at six.

Emily smirked, "there are plenty of trees though."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly, "well, yes," then he sobered as he looked out at the darkness surrounding the well lit tree and parking area. When he looked back at her he said seriously, "just don't go too far."

A soft smile crossed her lips as she patted the weapon he couldn't see, "we'll be fine."

She'd discovered that wearing her gun on her waist didn't work when she was out with Jack. Having a little boy on her hip meant that she needed to find a new off duty location for her weapon. She'd thought about getting an ankle holster like Hotch, but her boots were too high. So she'd ended up settling on the shoulder one because it was the most comfortable, and it was also completely hidden from view when she was wearing her parka.

That was a bonus for not scaring the crap out of the general public when they were out doing mundane activities like tree shopping.

Hotch looked at Emily for a second before his eyes crinkled slightly and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

"Okay," then he kissed Jack's forehead, "I'll meet you guys at the jeep."

For just a second he was about to tell her to stay with the tree and he'd take Jack out to pee. But then he realized his over protectiveness was getting the better of him. Emily was certainly capable of taking his son to the bathroom without any assistance from him.

Though he couldn't help how much he worried about them, he knew that if he started to get _that_ paranoid about their safety that he wouldn't be able to think straight. Not to mention that Emily would definitely take offense at the implication that not only couldn't she take care of herself, but that she couldn't take care of Jack as well as he could for five minutes.

It's not like it was midnight at an Interstate truck stop. It was six forty-five on a Tuesday evening and there were people all around.

They would be fine.

And that's what he told himself again as they disappeared around the corner of the lot. They would be just fine.

All the same though . . . he shot a glare at the kid to make him move a little faster with the twine . . . if he just so happened to finish up quickly and meet them outside, well there wouldn't be anything wrong with that.

////////

Emily stopped for a second as she looked around the parking lot.

Okay, now where was the best place to do this? Obviously they had to at least move away from the trees that people would be PURCHASING. Beyond the tree lot area, the parking lot itself was surrounded by woods on two sides, the street out front, and then the strip mall.

The strip mall consisted of a bank, a dentist, a lunch cafe and a hair salon that was closed Mondays and Tuesdays.

It was Tuesday.

So no luck with the buildings and she also immediately dismissed the woods. Even if it was early in the evening, it was still dark out.

And too many bad things happened after dark in the woods.

Then her eyes caught on the light pole stands.

That'll do . . . she started across the parking lot to one outside the busy traffic area . . . that'll do just fine.

"Miss Emily I gotta go NOW!" Jack cried as he started to squirm on her hip.

"I know honey," she patted his back as she started to jog across the lot with him, "just one more second and you can go potty."

Once they'd reached a light pole outside the busy part of the parking lot, she stopped and put Jack on the ground. He was starting to dance as she quickly unzipped and unfastened his little green Osh Kosh pants. Fortunately he was a boy so outdoor peeing wasn't the production it would have been if he had a different set of plumbing.

"Okay, buddy," she turned him around to face the pole, "you do the rest."

And she stood there patiently, watching the parking lot around them, waiting until he was done. Then she heard a "'k Miss Emily," and she crouched down to help him with his pants again.

If they were home he could have done that part himself, but it was cold out and it was faster with her helping. And when she looked up at him he grinned and she kissed his nose as she pulled the little packet of wipes out of her pocket.

In that respect she had become a professional caregiver . . . everywhere they went with Jack she carried a mini pack of wipes with her.

And of course tissues.

The tissues she'd started carrying after she realized that he occasionally wiped his nose on his sleeve. And she realized that about thirty seconds _after_ she'd put her hand on his sticky jacket.

Thank God she'd had the wipes with her that day!

"That was a close one, huh," she smiled at him as she wiped his hands off.

"Uh, huh," he nodded seriously, "I almost went potty in my PANTS!"

She laughed, "well, good thing you didn't," she scooped him back up, "you would have got potty on ME too!"

He giggled as she hugged him close, smelling the remnants of the baby shampoo in his hair . . . yep, definitely needed to get another one of these for full time use.

As Jack leaned his head on her shoulder, Emily started back across the parking lot. And then she saw Hotch walking towards them and she smiled.

So much for meeting up at the jeep.

They met in the middle and Hotch shifted Jack into his arms as he raised what he hoped was a casual eyebrow in Emily's direction, "everything go okay."

"Yes daddy," Emily shot him an amused eye roll, "everything went fine. WE were fine."

You'd think they'd gone out to pee in the Green Zone!

Knowing that words could do nothing but get him into trouble, Hotch just smiled as he slipped Emily's fingers into his. All he said as they started back to the car was, "looks like snow."

Emily's lips twitched as she squeezed his hand.

"That it does."

/////////

After they dropped Jack off at Haley's Hotch stopped into his place to get a fresh suit before they headed back to Emily's.

Emily's doorman attempted to assist Hotch in dragging the tree into the building but Hotch was insistent that he could do it himself.

And he did.

He was doing quite well until they actually got to her front door. And that's where Emily attempted to help him by picking up the top of the tree right after he had put the stump on the hall carpet so he could readjust his grip.

"OW!"

"EMILY!" He reached up to check his watering eye, "what the HELL?!"

"Oh honey!" Emily cried out as she leaned over the tree separating them, "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!"

Oh geez! She'd blinded him!

Hotch blinked repeatedly as he shot her a half wattage glare . . . half wattage not because he wasn't that angry, but only because he couldn't control the nervous tick on one half of his face.

"What," he growled, "may I ask, did you think you were you doing?"

He gets the damn tree halfway across town, all the way into the building, up eight flights and then she BLINDS him walking in the front door!

"Um," Emily bit her lip nervously, "helping?"

Though that was the intention, she was gathering from the look on his face and the watering of his right eye that perhaps her assistance was neither needed nor welcome.

And he was still shooting her a fairly nasty glare so she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, "how about I just go fix the tree stand?"

"Yes," Hotch ground out as the right half of his face continued to twitch, "why don't you do that."

God knows he loved her dearly but sometimes . . . he shook his head as she gave him a sheepish smile . . . she did still drive him NUTS!

Emily dropped her parka on the couch as she quickly hurried across the room to undo the notches on the stand.

If she didn't bug him in the next five minutes Emily knew that he'd forget that just a second ago he wanted to wish her into the cornfield. And she didn't blame him . . . somebody jamming a tree into your eye was quite upsetting . . . so if positions were reversed, she'd probably be pretty pissed off at him right now too.

Just because he was much more tolerant of her insanity now than he was a year ago didn't mean that she didn't occasionally still drive him crazy for real. And she knew that because occasionally he drove her crazy for real too.

Being in love didn't mean that you didn't still get on each other's nerves. They were just lucky that . . . given all the time they spent together . . . that they were as compatible as they were.

So she made sure to get out of his way as he dragged the tree over and dropped it into the stand. And she very specifically WAITED until he asked her to tighten the screws before she crouched down to fix them.

Once the tree was straight . . . and steady . . . she stood up again and looked at him.

Deciding that he'd had enough time to get over her little, "oops," she ran her hand along his chest as she pouted at him.

"Does your eye still hurt?"

Hotch looked at her for a second before his lip quirked up, "it's okay." Then he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before he whispered against them, "you'll have to try harder to maim me next time."

It was an accident, and he certainly wasn't going to stay mad about an accident.

Her arms slinked around his neck as she nibbled back on his lip, "but if I break you who will put the angel on the tree?"

See, five minutes and it was all better.

"Ah," he lifted her slightly off the ground as he mumbled back, "I see. So the only thing standing between me and an untimely dismemberment is an undecorated Christmas tree?"

Emily giggled as she pulled away, "yep," she smiled at him, "that's all."

They stared at each other for a moment before his eyes crinkled slightly and he pulled her into a hug.

"How's your headache?" He whispered against her hair.

She'd been rubbing her temple on the way home.

"Eh," she murmured back, "kind of poundy. I should probably go get some Tylenol."

Thank God her doctor's appointment was tomorrow. She was so sick of these stupid headaches. Though she was trying to keep Hotch from noticing how _often_ she was getting them, it was a little difficult keeping something like that from a profiler.

And the unconscious rubbing of her temple was a dead giveaway that her head hurt.

"Okay," he rubbed her back, "well then why don't you go upstairs and take some and I'll make you some tea," he kissed the top of her head, "sound good?"

Emily's eyes stung slightly as she lifted her head to look up at him.

"Sounds very good."

//////

After Emily had taken her Tylenol, washed off her makeup and changed into her flannel Hello Kitty pajamas, she came back downstairs to find two mugs of tea on the coffee table, and Hotch sitting on the couch staring at the tree.

Her eyebrow quirked up slightly as she came over to sit down in his lap. His arm immediately wrapped around her waist.

"What are you looking at?" She murmured against his temple.

"Our Christmas tree," he said softly.

Emily felt a burst of happiness at his choice of phrasing.

Ours.

It was their tree. They were an "ours." An "us."

A couple.

She kissed his cheek before she said happily, "it's a good tree."

It was actually a great tree. How could it not be? Jack picked it out.

"Nothing but the best for my girl," Hotch said seriously before his lip quirked up, "and just think how much nicer it'll look when it has lights and ornaments and it's not just a dead carcass in the living room."

Provided they didn't get called out of town, tree decorating was the plan for Saturday. And he was genuinely looking forward to it.

Tangled lights, broken bulbs, sappy fingers and all.

Last year he had no tree . . . he didn't even have a wreath. But this was part of the family package.

And this time he wasn't going to take any of it for granted.

Emily laughed, "that's true."

She was really excited about tree decorating. Over the years she'd picked up some wonderful ornaments from around the world. And Hotch said he had a few packed away in a box from his childhood. Plus he had a couple of dad ones that Haley had bought for him as presents from Jack.

So this really was going to be "their" tree.

Hotch leaned forward slightly to get her mug, which he passed to her before he took a sip from his own. Then his eyes shifted over to the cable clock.

8:47

He looked over at Emily sipping her tea, "you want to watch some TV?"

In the past . . . in his days with Haley . . . he'd be breaking out his case files right about now. But he was trying to be good about turning over a new leaf with Emily. Though he did of course still bring his work home with him, he didn't do it every night.

And he didn't do it for hours on end.

There had to be some divide between that world and this one. Otherwise this relationship was going to fail just as spectacularly as the one he'd had with Haley.

He couldn't let that happen.

Emily peered at Hotch over put her mug, "I don't know, what do you want to do?"

More often than not they ended up just doing what she wanted to do. Like spend the evening Christmas tree shopping. So she just wanted to make sure that she didn't monopolize ALL of their free time with them doing just her stuff.

"Well," Hotch ran his hand along her side, feeling the soft flannel beneath his fingers, "there really isn't anything on, and it does seem a shame to waste these sexy pajamas."

He was being serious, but of course Emily could make a burlap sack look sexy.

Emily's lips twitched as she leaned over to put her mug on the coffee table. Then she shifted around to straddle his lap, "you like the flannel, huh?"

She'd been cold when she was changing so she figured she could wear these ones around the house and then change into something else when they went to bed. Now that they were starting to fool around she'd been digging into her lingerie drawer to find fun things to wear.

It had been so long since she'd worn anything sexy to bed, the drawer had practically creaked when she opened it.

"Oh yeah," Hotch ran his hands down her arms as he winked at her, "LOVE the flannel, especially the Hello Kitty print."

She looked adorable. Plus, there was a button down top. And that meant easy access for him!

Her arms slipped around his neck as her eyebrow rose up, "so you didn't want to see the red silk nightgown I was going to wear tonight?" She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "you can see through the top."

The top was all lace and given how much (fabulous) attention Hotch had been giving to her breasts the past few days she thought he'd really enjoy the view.

Hotch's face lit up as he pulled back to look at her, "really?"

Hmmm . . . see through . . . that does sound like fun!

But then he looked over her flannel pajamas again . . . but these were good too. He looked up at her hopefully, "can we save the red ones for tomorrow?"

Her lip quirked up, "you're really putting off transparent nipples for full flannel coverage?" She tipped her head to the side as she looked down at him quizzically "are you sure you don't have some sort of secret granny fetish I need to know about? Should I dye my hair blue?"

What man turns down transparent nipples!?

Hotch shot her a look, "you keep that up and you're not getting any action tonight."

Emily chuckled as she kissed his nose, "sorry, just kidding honey," she rested her cheek on his shoulder as she huffed in amusement, "I just thought for sure you'd pick see through red over white flannel."

Men's brains would always and forever remain a mystery to her.

Hotch smiled as he tipped his head down to rest against hers. Then he whispered against her hair, "your breasts are just as beautiful either way sweetheart." Feeling the chuckle vibrate through her body he moved her over to lie down on the cushions, and then he hovered on top of her.

When she looked up at him with a little grin he winked.

"Okay," he started undoing the buttons on her top as he continued in his most professorial tone, "now where did we leave off last night? Oh that's right," his eyes lit up as her left breast came into view, "_right_ here."

As Hotch's mouth covered her bare nipple Emily closed her eyes and sighed.

He was right_ . . . _she moaned as his tongue swirled around the tip . . _. _flannel was definitely the way to go.

* * *

_A/N 2: In the original draft of The Hours, I have that story starting on a Saturday night but I think I'm going to have to shuffle that a bit here because I just can't be so cruel as to substitute the Christmas tree decorating that they're both looking forward to so much with them instead finding out she's sick. That would just be too sad. And now I feel like I should write the tree decorating. Damn it! You know I'm trying so hard to wrap this story and I keep getting other ideas! I guess the main obstacle left is to figure out the timing of the remaining chapters I have to put up, and whether writing any new ones would add to the story. I doubt anybody would yell at me if I did cover the tree decorating with Jack and maybe some of the big date, right? I'll roll it around in my head this week and see what I come up with for a final plan. When I post the conclusion to Making Spirits Bright I'll share the details with the class. And that conclusion will be going up in a few days. THEN I'll start work on the next Fracture. _


	135. Clues Missed, Clues Ignored

**Author's Note**: I figured out the order of the chapters to keep the spirit of the hospital events in the original Hours story (which is very important), without completely breaking their little hearts on Christmas tree decorating day. So now there will just be one chapter after this one. I'll explain at the end.

This is the last canon episode we cover in season 4. Normal. The one with ADA Skinner aka Mitch Pileggi as the family annihilator. This chapter opens with them getting off the plane back at Quantico, with the time zone difference and flight time, I say it's late Friday afternoon. This is a workhorse chapter. It addresses some points that need to be addressed to pull the whole story along. And isn't just H/P focused, it probably only covers about ten minutes of time, but it shifts gears around different conversations as the team walks back to the office.

* * *

_Mid December: Friday_

_Episode - Normal_

**Clues Missed, Clues Ignored**

As they were exiting the jet Emily lost her balance on the stairs and tripped four steps from the bottom. Her only thought before she smashed into the unsuspecting Reid just below her was . . . OH CRAP!

They both hit the ground hard.

Hotch had received a call as they landed and he'd been the first one off the plane. So he was almost ten feet further down the tarmac when he heard the crash behind him.

He spun around, snapping his phone shut on Strauss mid sentence as his eyes popped in horror.

SHIT!

He ran back over as Derek and Dave hurried down the stairs to help Emily and Reid sprawled out on the ground.

Morgan and Hotch both got there are the same time, which was just as Emily was pushing herself off of Spencer.

Hotch crouched down next to Emily, putting his hand on her back as he looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Are you two all right?" He asked with a touch of panic.

Fortunately there didn't seem to be any blood, but he didn't know how far they'd fallen.

"Yeah," Emily nodded as she tried to stand up, "I'm okay, I just um," she shook her head slightly to focus, "tripped and fell into Reid."

God . . . she winced as she saw Spencer rubbing his head . . . poor Reid. She was going to have some black and blues but he'd landed underneath her and absorbed the bulk of the impact.

Not to say that she was completely okay, her dizzy spell hadn't quite passed yet so she was grateful for Hotch's assistance getting up off the ground.

As Hotch helped Emily up, Derek knelt down to check Reid for protruding injuries. Then he heard Todd at the top of the stairs muttering, "what the hell happened here?" and he knew that the entire team was now aware of their little accident.

With Hotch's hand firmly grasping her arm, Emily looked down at Reid worriedly.

"I'm really sorry Spencer. Are you all right?"

She'd totally flattened him!

Trying to wipe the worried look from Emily's face, Reid gave her a slightly pained smile as he continued to rub the back of his head.

"It's okay Em, I'm fine," then he huffed, "at least you don't weigh that much."

Though she did completely knock him off his feet, fortunately he was only one step from the bottom so he only fell a foot. Reid winced as he pictured what would have happened if he hadn't been between Emily and the cold pavement.

She could have suffered a cranial fracture.

Rossi nervously looked back and forth between Emily in Hotch's vice grip and Reid still on the ground getting checked by Morgan.

Having seen Emily's tumble in slow motion from the jet doorway, Dave had been convinced that she was going to break her neck. Really he was just amazed that both she and Reid seemed to be okay.

As Rossi leaned down to help Derek give Reid a hand up, Derek tried to joke to relieve the tension.

"No need to apologize to him Em," he affectionately patted Spencer's shoulder, "that's probably the most action he's gotten in six months."

Emily rolled her eyes as the two started bickering . . . after Derek returned from suspension it hadn't taken long for them to get back to their old ways . . . and then she turned to look at Hotch.

He hadn't said anything since he'd asked if they were okay. And he was still holding her elbow tightly as he gave her a very intense appraisal. She could actually see his gears turning, him remembering her stumbling the other day walking into the parking garage, and then again last week in the supermarket.

She had to put a stop to this before he started putting two and two together.

Unfortunately the case had taken her out of town before her doctor's appointment, but she'd rescheduled it for Monday. And now that she'd waited so long to mention her symptoms to him, it seemed foolish to make him start to worry when she was seeing the doctor in seventy-two hours.

But as she saw his brow narrow, she knew he was ready to open his mouth so she blurted out.

"It's the new boots!"

She pulled up her pant leg, "see, the brown ones I got two weeks ago. I'm still breaking them in and," she shot him a look, "you know I can barely walk straight in sneakers."

The boots probably hadn't helped, but she knew that they hadn't been the cause of her fall. But Hotch would be dragging her off to the hospital tonight if she told him what was happening.

Slowly working his jaw, Hotch looked at Emily's face a moment longer before his eyes dropped down to her boot.

This was the third time he'd seen her lose her balance in the last two weeks. That was above average even for her.

His brow narrowed as he looked closer at the boot . . . they had that buckle thing on the side so he knew that those _were_ the new ones. And he knew this because he was there when they were purchased.

He'd then had to lug them around the mall for the next two hours as she did pre-Christmas shopping shopping.

Plus . . . he looked back up at her pretty face . . . she was a klutz.

Really, he couldn't even begin to count the number of times she'd doused herself . . . or the rest of them . . . with coffee over the past three years. Okay . . . he nodded slowly to himself . . . it probably was just a combination of the boots and well, her.

So he tipped his head and she dropped her pant leg back down. Then he let go of her arm to lean over to pick up her bag from where it had fallen. After he slung it over the shoulder carrying his own duffel, he put his hand on her upper back as he guided her down the tarmac and away from the team.

They'd be along in a second. Morgan and Rossi had both dropped their bags in the door when they saw the accident and Derek was now running back up to retrieve them. Still though, they were close by, and Hotch didn't want them to overhear their conversation so he leaned slightly to whisper in Emily's ear.

"Maybe we should get you some training wheels like we did for Jack's bike."

Knowing that Hotch teasing meant that he had decided to let it go, Emily gave him a big smile.

"Don't be silly _sir_," she smirked, "then I'd be required to get a helmet too."

Seeing Hotch was about to open his mouth, Emily clamped her hand over it.

"Don't even _think_ it," she shot him a glare, "because I guarantee that if you say it, as soon as we're off duty I will kick you hard with my half price Italian leather 1 ¾ inch heeled boots."

Knowing instinctively that wasn't an empty threat, Hotch mumbled around Emily's hand.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

Emily smirked as she took her hand down, "due apologies, my mistake."

Hotch's brow quirked up in amusement as he leaned around Emily to open the door into the building.

"So," he moved on to other matters as she stepped in front of him, "who drove? Me or you?"

Since they kept basically the same hours and lived four minutes apart, they had started commuting together a couple of days a week. Gas prices were getting ridiculous and it was cheaper for both of them.

At least those were the reason Hotch gave when people "casually" commented on them coming in together. And his answer was truthful as far as it went. But really, the reason they were coming in together was that he'd been waking up in her bed three or four days a week. And it was rather ridiculous to take two cars when they were leaving the same place and GOING to the same place.

He looked over at Emily biting her lip.

"It's been a few days since we've been home but I think it was me," then she nodded definitively, "yeah it was definitely me, remember Jack spilled his apple juice in your jeep on the way home Tuesday night."

That was a mess to clean up, and the back seat still smelled like disinfectant the next day so they'd taken her car instead of his.

Hotch nodded, "that's right. God was that only Tuesday?" he sighed, "it seems longer."

"Well," Emily reminded him, "with cases like this it always seems like we're gone forever. Hey, do you want to . . ."

She was interrupted by Hotch's ringing cell phone. Hotch looked down at the caller ID and winced.

Strauss.

"Crap."

Emily peeked over to see what the problem was, "what's wrong? I thought you two were getting along okay."

"Okay," meant that the woman wasn't ACTIVELY trying to destroy his career. Baby steps.

Hotch sighed as he let the call go to voicemail.

"We were until I snapped the phone shut on her after you and Reid went tumbling onto the tarmac."

Emily winced, "oh."

Hotch gave her a droll look, "yes, '_oh_,'" then his mouth started to twitch as he remembered what Strauss had been talking about.

Seeing the smile Hotch was trying to suppress Emily's eyes crinkled. Then she nudged his arm as they walked down the corridor, "share with the class."

As open as he was with her in private, getting him to be expressive . . . happy . . . in public was still an uphill battle. Not that she wanted her private Hotch to become everyone's Hotch, she just wanted him to loosen up ever so slightly on that superhuman control of his.

It took so much from him to keep up that rigid facade, and she thought that he'd feel less stressed on the job if he could just relax a little bit. So she was very happy to see one of Hotch's dimples appear right before he answered her question.

"The last thing Strauss said before I hung up was _'Aaron we need to work on keeping the lines of communication open_.'"

Unfortunately . . . to Hotch's observations over the years . . . Erin Strauss did not seem to be a fan of irony. So he knew that there was going to be one righteously pissed off section chief on the other end of this voice mail message.

Emily clamped her hand over her _own_ mouth to muffle what was about to become a very unprofessional giggle. Giggling was only allowed off duty with her private Hotch.

She cleared her throat, "that's very unfortunate."

"It is."

"What are you going to do?"

Hotch grabbed Emily's arm to stop her walking as he raised an eyebrow, "what do you think I'm going to do?

Emily tilted her head as she pretended to think for a second.

"Um, lie?"

Though Hotch was generally honest to a fault, sometimes a little white lie was the fastest way to resolve a non issue such as this one.

He nodded as he opened his phone and hit call back missed call.

A second later Strauss picked up and Hotch could clearly hear the irritation in her tone . . . and that before she even knew it was him calling!

"Ma'am," he said on a sigh, "it's Agent Hotchner."

Suddenly Emily heard loud noises as Hotch winced slightly and pulled the cell away from his ear.

"Yes," he said seriously, "I can see how that would be frustrating to be talking to someone for almost two minutes and then realize that person was no longer on the line."

Emily had to bite down hard on her lip as she heard him continue. "I'm sorry that happened but of course ma'am I did not hang up on you. The call dropped. I'm sure you know that cell service on the tarmac is notoriously spotty."

It was actually crystal clear but Erin Strauss had only been in the field once in the last fifteen years so Hotch knew that she wouldn't know any different. And his office was on the other side of the campus so he figured he might as well get the call over with now before she had a chance to stew any longer and get angrier.

Ordinarily of course he'd keep walking and talking, but God forbid he dropped the call again in the middle of the building. So he leaned back against the wall and politely cut in when she took a breath between tirades, "you were talking about lines of communication . . .?"

Seeing that Hotch was settling in to do this whole thing now Emily rolled her eyes at him . . . again Strauss was screwing up their evening. She slipped her bag off his shoulder as she mouthed the words.

"I'll see you in the unit."

She would have taken his bag too but he'd never allow it.

Hotch nodded back to Emily, giving her a little smile as she waved her hand over her shoulder.

Then he saw the rest of the team coming down the hall and he quickly schooled his features. As far as they were concerned he didn't walk around smiling for _any_ reason. And he was doing his best to not do anything to affect their regular perception of him.

So to that end he just gave them a quick, serious nod of acknowledgment as they passed by him.

When Dave slowed to give him a quizzical look, Hotch mouthed "Strauss" and the other man rolled his eyes as he stopped and waited for him to finish up.

Hotch sighed as he refocused his attention on the woman talking in his ear. He was hungry and tired and just wanted to go home with Emily and Jack.

There was nothing like a family annihilator to refocus your attentions on your own loved ones. And as he thought about that fact he decided that he was hanging up again in two minutes whether Strauss was done talking or not.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Jordan glanced back over her shoulder to see that Dave had stopped to wait for Hotch . . . good. She waited until she figured she had enough clearance and then commented to Reid and Derek.

"Did you see guys Hotch carrying Emily's bag?"

Immediately tensing at this line of inquiry, Derek shot a quick look at Reid and saw that he looked wary as well. It was one thing for them to notice the growing closeness between their boss and their teammate, it was another thing entirely for people who weren't immediate family to notice it.

Especially Jordan.

She most definitely had _not_ been fitting in well. At present she was scheduled with them for another month and a half . . . until JJ's maternity leave ended . . . but the way things were going Derek wouldn't be surprised if Hotch had her transferred out well before JJ's return. And the last thing they needed was her to leave the team with bad feelings _and_ ammo against Hotch.

Therefore Derek quickly moved to correct any impressions . . . true or false . . . that Jordan may be getting about Hotch and Emily's relationship. So he dismissed her observation with a succinct, "he was being _nice_ Jordan. She'd just fallen down the stairs."

That's mostly what it was anyway. It's not like Derek himself wouldn't have done the same thing if he'd walked out with her. Okay, yeah, he'd let Reid carry his own bag but that's because Reid was a guy. And a guy doesn't carry another guy's bags unless he's wearing a red cap, or the other guy is majorly ill.

Like Hotch was a few weeks ago.

But unfortunately Morgan saw from the look on Jordan's face that she wasn't about to let it go at simply chivalrous behavior.

"That's not the first time he's done it though," Jordan popped up her index finger as she continued to walk slowly down the hall, "he did it at the hotel when we were leaving, and in Phoenix when we got off the plane, and . . ."

Seeing that she was actually beginning to _count _on her fingers the number of what she felt were suspect interactions between the chief and a female member of his unit, Derek cut her off at the knees.

"Jordan," he said firmly, "again, he's just being _nice_. He's," Morgan stumbled for a second, "southern."

That was true, he was southern. But Hotch was still not at ALL inclined to carry another agent's bags, be they male or female. If anything he'd always made a point to maintain strictly professional interactions with all female coworkers.

Okay, well, except JJ, he did regularly take JJ's bag from her for the entire third term of her pregnancy. But they had all made a point of making sure she didn't carry anything heavier than a file folder, so his actions there really didn't count.

Jordan . . . annoyed that she'd been interrupted just as she was on a roll . . . retorted smartly, "well he doesn't carry _my_ bags."

Though he'd been trying to stay out of the conversation, Spencer wasn't able to ignore _that_ comment and he muttered back, "that's because he doesn't like you."

God did he miss JJ! Not only just in principle, but seriously, Reid just did not GET Jordan at all! All her little tantrums. And it bugged him even more to know that Derek wouldn't be so tolerant of her behavior if she wasn't pretty.

Seriously, if she was a guy and behaved that way walking in the door, Derek would have pulled him aside and told him to get his shit together or transfer out again.

Opting not to dignify Reid's comment with a response, Jordan simply shot him a dirty look before she threw her hair back and stalked off alone. Reid started to continue down the hall but Morgan grabbed his shoulder to slow him down before they inadvertently caught up with her.

Derek chuckled as he saw Jordan slam through the next set of doors, "man," he looked down at Reid, "that wasn't nice."

Funny, yes, but most definitely not nice.

Reid rolled his eyes, "it's true though. She hasn't exactly made a good impression, and Hotch is pretty easy to get along with. All he asks is that we do our jobs to the best of our ability and conduct ourselves in a manner that reflects well on the bureau. And," Reid added sarcastically, "with her little 'outbursts' she's kind of one for two right now isn't she? And don't tell me you didn't hear about her behavior at the crime scene."

Derek nodded as he puffed out a breath, "yeah I heard."

Challenging a superior at a crime scene, hell not even _just_ a crime scene, they were out in front of the public at the time, that was just . . . well, there was really no good spin on her behavior there. That was major insubordination. A major fuck up.

Really, she's damn lucky that Hotch was a cold burn and not inclined to make rash decisions. Though Derek knew that he'd had a conversation with Jordan before they got on the plane, Rossi had told him that Hotch hadn't written her up for her behavior.

Though as far as Morgan could see, he figured Jordan was just about to hang herself. If she acted out again like she did in California, there was no way that Hotch wasn't putting something in her file.

"All right then," Reid shot a scowl in her direction, "maybe she should be spending a little more time trying to get her act together and a little _less _time speculating about Hotch's relationship with Emily."

Though Reid knew that Hotch and Emily were close, he didn't know how close. But that wasn't any of his business, and it sure as hell wasn't any of Jordan _Todd_'s business! Hotch and Em had been nothing but good to him and Reid wasn't about to allow some . . . some . . . interloper, do anything to hurt them.

Morgan pursed his lips as his gaze followed Reid's . . . though he'd moved past his initial attraction to Jordan after a couple weeks, Derek was still somewhat sympathetic to her situation. He knew that this was a hard job and maybe she hadn't realized just _how_ hard before she'd applied for the transfer.

And different people deal with stress differently.

That said though, she had made a few _serious_ missteps since she'd been with them, and Morgan couldn't disagree with Reid on any particular point that he had made.

The kid was right, she needed to start getting her shit together.

So Morgan sighed as he started walking down the hall again.

"I know man," he shot a look over at Reid, "I know."

/*/*/*/*/*/

Oh crap!

Emily started blinking repeatedly to focus as she put her hand against the wall for balance . . . another dizzy spell had just hit her as she walking back to the BAU. She stopped for a second, debating whether putting her head between her knees would work for something like this.

Then she decided that blood rushing to her head probably wouldn't help do anything but bring about a state of unconsciousness. So she just leaned back against the wall for a moment as she took deep, slow breaths . . . in and out, trying to get both her physical and emotional upset under control.

Two major dizzy spells in less than twenty minutes. All of a sudden she was starting to feel really nervous. And she was starting to _seriously_ regret the fact that she'd missed her doctor's appointment this week!

Not that she was freaked enough to go right to the E.R . . . it was still probably just nothing . . . but a creeping, scary little thought was starting to burrow into her brain.

What if it wasn't just a sinus thing like she thought? What if it was something much more serious?

Just like anyone else, she liked to think that she was invincible, but she wasn't a super hero. She had no immunity to the diseases that could randomly, and viciously, strike someone down in her prime.

Yes, it's true that she could also be randomly and viciously struck down at work. But her worries right now about her symptoms weren't the same as the ones she had over having a potentially dangerous job. Work consisted of variables that she could control.

Weapons, training . . . backup.

But she had no control over what was happening to her right now. She couldn't put on a vest or strap on another weapon and suddenly everything would be better. If there was something seriously wrong with her then she was going to be completely helpless to control her fate.

For a moment Emily's fear and panic spiked, threatening to overwhelm her. And for just that moment feeling that cold pit in her stomach, she saw herself running back down the hall and telling Hotch everything.

But then she took a breath, and then another . . . and slowly she got her galloping imagination back under control again. Over and over she started to remind herself that nothing had changed from an hour before.

And an hour before she was perfectly fine going to the doctor on Monday.

One (two) more dizzy spells didn't mean that her situation had shifted at all. Maybe the altitude changes from flying had made her more susceptible to that particular symptom cropping up.

And all of these symptoms were the exact same ones that she'd already decided to go get checked with the doctor anyway. She slowly pushed herself off the wall . . . so all she was doing right now was majorly stressing herself out and ruining what was hopefully going to be a fabulous weekend.

They were picking up Jack (and pizza) on the way home. Then tomorrow morning they were going grocery shopping and tomorrow afternoon they were going to start decorating the tree. And Hotch was going to make chicken parm for dinner, hence the grocery shopping in the morning.

And that was just Saturday! That wasn't even covering The Date and the Talk on Sunday. This was shaping up to be one of the best weekends of her life and there was NO way that she was going to ruin all that for a couple dizzy spills!

For a second she had herself righteously convinced that her course of action was completely justified. But then the little voice in her head again quietly reminded her that the dizzy spells were just the latest symptoms. There were also the headaches that had been going on for weeks now. And recently she'd noticed that she'd started having a few coordination issues.

And then there were the odd bouts of exhaustion. She'd thought she'd just been pushing herself too hard but now, putting them all together . . . she chewed her lip nervously . . . she didn't know what was happening.

Okay . . . she pushed down the stressball again as she tried to talk herself down from the ledge . . . just don't THINK about it right now Em! Thinking about it makes it important.

It makes it a problem.

And there was still a possibility . . . slim though it may be . . . that it wasn't a problem. That there was some benign explanation for all of her symptoms. And . . . the stress ball started pushing it's way up again . . . if there was something more ominous happening, well . . . she swallowed as she tried to push all of her health concerns aside . . . after all this time, an additional seventy-two hours wasn't going to make any difference either way.

Emily continued down the hall, digging her fingernails into her hand as she thought about Hotch and Jack and how much she wanted to see them both right then. Then she blinked away the tears that were starting to sting her eyes as she thought sadly.

'_God, she just wanted to go home.'_

_

* * *

_

_A/N 2: Yes, I know my Jordan distaste is showing but it couldn't be helped. That episode in particular, I thought her behavior was ridiculously unprofessional. Yes, it was a terrible case but come on, you're not some chick they dragged in off the street, you're a frigging federal agent. Act like one. And nobody anywhere gets to talk to their boss like that have it be "acceptable" behavior. And I thought Reid (given the look he and Emily had exchanged at the end of the George from Seinfeld episode) would have been the one most likely to be openly "enough already" with her behavior. And to make the observation that Morgan was only AS tolerant of her crap because he was attracted to her. _

_Fortunately for everyone who doesn't detest the Agent Todd character as much as I did :) that's the end of the episodes this universe covers. Because really, my dissection of Jordan's behavior in later canon eps (where she's snapping at both Hotch AND Emily) would have been even less kind. Hard to believe, I know :) Though she does turn up in a few Hours chapters, I don't portray her in a negative light. I figured that with Emily having cancer she would have at least had the sense to stop being a complete tool and started acting like a grownup at work. _

_Originally I had planned to write a chapter covering them on Saturday but now I don't think so. I know what they're doing but I just don't have anything really to write about in that regard. Maybe, if something suddenly hits me I could do a little snippet. But mostly I've just been working on the last chapter, jumping to Sunday, and it's pretty far along so I think I'll get it up before the end of the month. Which would be great because then I could start shifting focus to other stories that have been on the back burner. __Either way, The Hours will open sometime in June focusing on the next phase of their lives. And as soon as you see that Communication Breakdown and Gingerbread get their last chapters up, then you can know that I'll have begun working on All the King's Horses again. That's the first thing I'm planning on taking out of dry dock.  
_


	136. The Beginning in the End

**Author's Note:** I'm back! My muse returned over a week ago but I've just been writing and everything I've been writing has been really lengthy so I this is the first thing I've actually finished up.

So this is the very, very end of Girl. It makes me sad. I mean yes, the Girl'verse goes on and on in so many incarnations, but this is the main story, this is the nucleus, the proteins that make all the rest possible. And this is it. Special thanks to _The Best Beta Ever_ (she has a sash) Miss Arcadya for reviewing this for me. I needed her thumbs up as to whether this would be a "worthy" conclusion. And per her suggestion, I'm putting in two definitions here in the A/N:

"_I.C.E." = In Case of Emergency_

_Chemise = it's like a sleeveless slinky nightgown. And the one Emily mentions does exist and you can get it in like 6 different prints. _

I borrowed the title of this chapter from the season finale of Bones. Though I didn't much care for what they did in the ep, it was a really good summary for the concluding chapter here.

If you read the Hours, the basic outline for the latter portion of this chapter is a cannibalized revamp of the OPENING chapter of the other story. The only place to end it was to start at the beginning. That's why I liked the title so much, it works both ways, not only for their relationship continuing on, but also for the way the two stories came full circle.

As to this though, there's also lots of new stuff in here, and I didn't end up writing them Christmas tree decorating, but we are opening with them on Saturday night just as Hotch is putting Jack to bed.

**_UPDATED NOTE 6/15: THEY FIRED AJ COOK AND THEY'RE REDUCING PAGET'S ROLE. HERE'S THE PETITION TO KEEP THEM. PLEASE PASS THE WORD! _**

http:/ www . petitiononline. com/ cmwomen/

* * *

_Mid December: Saturday/Sunday_

**The Beginning in the End**

Emily settled back in the corner of the sofa with her whiskey and Coke. Though it seemed a bit of a travesty to mix good whiskey with a caramelized soft drink, she definitely needed the alcohol right now. Hotch was putting Jack to bed, and just after he'd brought him upstairs for story time (Emily tried to give them a little alone time occasionally) she'd started getting a stabbing pain in her temple.

It was one of the worst headaches she'd had so far. Not the "worst pain she could ever imagine having in her life," which she knew meant that she was having a stroke or an aneurysm, it definitely wasn't THAT bad. But as far as these headaches she'd been having this month, it was definitely taking the top honors.

Given the increase in dizzy spells this week . . . another one this morning . . . the intensity of the headache had really scared the hell out of her. But she figured . . . as with the rest of her symptoms . . . that it was simply a transitory condition and would pass soon enough. So she'd washed down three Tylenol with the whiskey and Coke in the hopes of dulling her senses more quickly.

Yes, the bottle of pills did specifically say NOT to do that, but she didn't really give a shit. Really, all she wanted was to not be biting her lip and wincing in pain when Hotch came back downstairs. If he knew that she was having another bad headache that would not only ruin their night, but also put his radar up.

And she was doing everything in her power to keep him from getting suspicious that anything was wrong.

Last night she'd gone upstairs to take a hot bath . . . she'd been sore from her fall . . . and Hotch had walked into the bathroom when she was undressing. For them that was now totally normal behavior. Even though they hadn't actually had intercourse yet, they certainly had been quite intimate, so she didn't even blink an eye at him seeing her nude body for the fifth or sixth time that week.

But of course she hadn't seen herself in the mirror yet, she hadn't seen the bruises from her fall.

If she had she . . . well, she wasn't sure what she would have done. It's not like she would have been able to hide the marks from Hotch for more than a few hours. As soon as they went to bed he would have noticed them.

Still though, she wished she'd seen them first, that she'd been able to tell him herself that they were pretty bad.

Because when he'd walked in she was just unhooking her bra and he'd actually stopped mid-sentence as he stared at her. For a second she'd thought it was just her breasts that had distracted him . . . though he'd spent hours that week exploring different parts of her body, they did seem to be his favorite new toy . . . but then he'd walked up to her, his fingers not moving to her chest as expected, but instead to gently brush over her arms before he stooped down and did the same to her bare legs.

The bruising was restricted just to her limbs . . . again Reid had broken her fall . . . but still, the marks were terrible. Big and ugly and purple, which is of course to be expected when you slam human flesh into concrete.

And as he'd stared at those marks he'd murmured as much to himself as to her, "oh sweetheart, what did you do?"

Seeing how worried he was, it had taken everything in her not to just blurt it all out to him then. But she'd held her tongue and she'd let him fuss and fix her bath and rub her sore muscles because that's what he needed to do. And since then he'd been hovering over her, waiting on her hand and foot. It was so sweet.

But it was also breaking her heart.

Because this was how he was reacting to her getting a couple of black and blues. And that just kept making her picture his reaction to her telling him why she'd fallen onto the tarmac. Between that fall, and this horrible headache she had tonight, she was finally starting to accept that it was extremely unlikely that this was all just going to go away with a little course of antibiotics.

Something was very wrong.

So one way or another . . . her eyes started to burn . . . she was going to have to have a serious conversation with him when she got back from the doctor on Monday.

And he was going to be so upset.

God . . . she took another sip of her drink as her eyes continued to water . . . maybe she should just tell him now. Get it over with.

For a second it seemed like a really good idea, but then she remembered again the reason that she had decided to wait . . . tomorrow was their date. And if she told him tonight that was going to totally screw up their special day.

A tear ran down her cheek . . . she just didn't know what to do.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

On his way back downstairs, Hotch stopped at the landing for a moment to admire their Christmas tree. The angel on the top, his ornaments from his old life mixed in with Emily's ornaments from around the world. His eyes crinkled slightly . . . it really was a damn fine tree if he did say so himself.

His gaze shifted from the tree to see Emily on the couch illuminated in the multi-colored glow of the lights. His smile began to fade when he saw her wipe her hand across her face.

She was crying.

As always when he saw her upset, he felt a little ache in his chest. So he started quietly down the stairs, hoping not to catch her attention. A few steps from the bottom he stopped as he watched her sniffling as she took a drink of her soda.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "what's wrong?"

He saw her attempt to cover her tears as she turned to him, "what?" she sniffled again as she put her glass on the table, "oh, nothing," she tried to brighten her voice, "I'm fine."

Crap . . . she wiped her hand across her face . . . since when was he so quiet on the stairs?

Hotch stared at her for a moment before he shook his head and went over to sit down next to her. Then he put his arm around her shoulders, but rather than curling up next to him like she usually did, she remained closed in on herself.

Okay . . . he reached over and picked up her hand . . . if she wasn't coming to him . . . he began massaging her fingers . . . he'd coax her over.

As he'd hoped, after a minute she shifted and leaned her head on his shoulder. When he looked down he saw the tears on her face were now a steady stream that she was trying to wipe away with the other hand.

His heart ached as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head. Then he murmured, "didn't you have a good day sweetheart?"

He just didn't understand where this was coming from. He thought they'd had a really good day. That morning he and Jack had made breakfast, then the three of them made a quick trip to the grocery store for dinner supplies before heading over to Pentagon City so that Emily could find a Christmas present for JJ's baby. They didn't stay in the mall more than an hour so it wasn't that stressful. Afterwards they'd come home, decorated the tree and then Hotch had made her favorite Italian meal for dinner. And before he'd gone upstairs with Jack she'd seemed absolutely fine.

And now she clearly wasn't.

"I did," Emily nodded vehemently against Hotch's side, "I had a wonderful day, really. I swear."

God . . . she scrubbed her hand over her face . . . stupid tears. They were going to screw everything up!

When his gaze shifted down and caught hers, Emily tried to give him a smile . . . but she knew it fell flat, so she let it go to answer the question that he hadn't asked yet.

"I think I'm just overtired, and you know the um," her voice was thick, "the case and everything is just catching up with me."

Though it obviously wasn't the exact truth, there was no doubt that the upsetting nature of the case . . . and the fact that she'd missed a night's sleep because of it . . . was indeed contributing to her lack of emotional control right now. And of course this was the worst possible time to lose control.

Hotch stared at her for a moment as he tried to gauge whether or not that was the whole problem.

It wasn't.

So he asked her softly, "you're sure that there's nothing else bothering you?" he tucked her hair back behind her ear as he whispered, "you know that you can tell me anything. All of your secrets are safe with me Emily."

"I know," she rubbed her hand along his thigh as she tried to stop crying, "but," she cleared her throat, her eyes falling away from his as she wiped her face again, "there's nothing to tell."

All right, that statement was further from the truth than the last one . . . but it still wasn't quite a lie either.

Right now she just had vague symptoms and panic driven fears, nothing concrete to tell him. But on Monday there would be test results and a doctor's opinion. That was something real, that was something tangible that they could deal with together.

That was something to tell.

In the meantime though, it would be cruel to put him through the same mental torture that she was experiencing. Letting his brain run the same gauntlet of worst case scenarios that hers was.

But . . . she sniffled again . . . if she didn't get it together in a minute then she was going to ruin the rest of the weekend anyway. Because even if he didn't know about her symptoms, if Hotch thought that she was keeping something serious from him, then he was going to start worrying.

So she took a deep breath, wiped her face with her shirt sleeve and pushed her melancholy down deep. When she was sure that she had everything locked up in the box again, she shifted over and straddled Hotch's lap.

His hands came to rest on her hips, and as she looked down at him she saw the twinge of worry in his brow . . . he definitely knew that she wasn't telling him everything.

Trying to deflect additional questions, Emily leaned down, pressing her lips to his before she pulled back and whispered, "I decided which pajamas are coming out of the drawer tonight," she started kissing her way along his jaw as she murmured against his skin, "my Hello Kitty chemise."

Her cute, sexy Hello Kitty nightgown was something fun and happy to help lighten the mood right now. All she needed to do was get his mind off the crying and onto sex. If she could do that then she could buy time to get them to tomorrow. And tomorrow they'd be busy all day with Jack . . . and hopefully all night with each other . . . so it was unlikely that she'd have any free time to think. No thinking meant no wallowing. And without time for wallowing there wouldn't be any more unexpected . . . extremely unwelcome . . . crying jags. That's all that mattered.

That her tears were kept locked up tight.

Though Hotch knew that Emily was trying to distract him from asking anymore questions, he couldn't deny that she was doing it quite effectively. As she started nibbling on his ear his arms tightened around her as he murmured back, "you know I love your Hello Kitty pajamas sweetheart, but I have no idea what a chemise is."

Emily chuckled softly against his skin . . . see, now if she told him what she knew then they wouldn't be doing this right now. They'd be pulling on shoes and he'd be carrying a sleeping Jack out to the jeep and they'd be going to the hospital.

And she didn't want that to happen. So she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly for a second before she pulled back to give him a little . . . still slightly watery . . . grin, "you have to come upstairs with me and I'll show you."

A faint smile touched Hotch's lips as he leaned up to kiss her, but as soon as he looked into Emily's eyes the smile fell away again. After all the time they had spent together, he knew her moods as well as his own, and it was obvious that something was bothering her beyond just the case.

"Sweetheart," he whispered as his finger ran down the curve of her cheek, "please tell why you're so sad."

If she'd just tell him what was wrong then maybe she'd feel better. Hell he'd feel better too! Knowing that she was upset about something and not being able to help her was really bothering him.

Emily's eyes started to water again and for a moment she just stared into his eyes . . . he didn't even pretend there was a question there. He just knew.

Still though . . . she gave him another watery smile as she leaned her forehead against his . . . she'd already made her decision for tonight.

His psychic powers changed nothing.

Though the time for clever wordplay was definitely over, she needed to be completely honest. So she whispered back, "it's nothing that can't wait until next week."

That one was the God's honest truth. But seeing Hotch about to open his mouth again, Emily pressed her lips to his before she murmured against them, "I promise Aaron, it can wait until next week. Now please," she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved to whisper in his ear.

"Take me to bed."

For a moment Hotch stared over her shoulder, watching the sparkles of the colored lights bouncing off the garland on the tree as he tried to decide what to do.

Finally he realized that he needed to let it go. If she didn't want to talk about it right now then it wasn't right to upset her by pushing it. If she said it could wait then he'd just have to trust that it wasn't that serious. That maybe it was because she was overtired that it seemed like she was more upset about this other thing than she really was. Regardless, whatever was going on he knew that she'd tell him when she was ready.

She always did.

So he pulled her into his arms and stood up. As her legs locked around his waist and her arms around his neck, he whispered back.

"Okay," he started towards the stairs, "let's go to bed."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily woke up to the sound of a ringing phone. But before she'd even opened her eyes she heard Hotch mumbling sleepily beside her.

"What's up Haley?"

Haley?

Emily squinted over Hotch's bare chest to the alarm clock on his other side . . . it wasn't even seven o'clock. And they still had Jack so what could his ex possibly be calling about this early on a Sunday morning?

A second later she had her answer.

"Did you check the pilot light?" Hotch yawned as his hand ran absentmindedly up and down Emily's silk covered back. A phone call from Haley wasn't how he'd planned on waking up this morning. He'd figured either Jack would come pounding on the door, or . . . if his son slept in for a bit . . . maybe he could have a little more fun with the gorgeous woman wrapped around his side.

But he'd been awoken by the ringing phone because the furnace was out at Haley's house and she was having a complete breakdown.

"I checked it Aaron," Haley bit her lip as she nervously paced back and forth in the kitchen, "it's lit and the oil man was here two weeks ago so there's no reason why it shouldn't be WORKING!" Noting the touch of hysteria creeping into her tone, Haley took a breath to calm down before she asked hesitantly, "I'm really sorry to bother you with this Aaron, but could you please come over and take a look at it?"

Though she hated having to call him, Haley didn't know what else to do. They were in the midst of a frigid weather front coming down from Siberia . . . the weather report said it was ten below with the wind chill . . . and the furnace had gone out sometime over night.

Perhaps even earlier . . . she'd gone to bed around ten . . . all she knew was that she'd woken up just after six because she was freezing to death. The house was actually so cold that she was afraid the pipes were going to freeze and it was now barely 6:45 on a Sunday morning so there was no way in hell that she was going to be able to track down a repair man at this hour. Her father was two states away, and with the exception of a few go nowhere set up dates, Jack was presently the only other "man" in her life. So that pretty much left Haley with just an ex-husband to call for help.

Dialing his number wasn't exactly her proudest moment, but she couldn't think of what else to do. The house was intolerably cold and if even one pipe burst she was going to be completely screwed.

At his ex-wife's surprising request, Hotch bit his lip as his gaze shifted down to Emily. "Uh, sure," he said to one woman as he stared at the other, "I'll be there within the hour."

After Haley's "thank you so much Aaron!" Hotch said "no problem," and hung up the phone. Then he wrinkled his nose at Emily, hoping that she wouldn't be upset.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but the furnace is out and God knows if she could even get a repairman on a Sunday," he sighed, "and I can't very well drop my son off at a house with no heat in it."

Though if it was just Haley he supposed he'd probably still go help her anyway. It was an emergency. Well, sort of. It was an _'everyday person_ _emergency,_' not a '_his line of work emergency.'_

Either way she needed help.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she used his chest to push herself up.

"No," she kissed him, "no you can't drop the little man off in an igloo." She cuddled into his side again as she sighed, "so you have to leave in like a half hour?"

No use being grumpy about him having to go, that would be ridiculous. Also she understood that he still had a relationship with Haley so it was understandable . . . Jack or no Jack . . . if Hotch could help out his ex-wife with a problem like this, he would.

Relieved that she wasn't upset he was leaving . . . he was worried that she'd think he was setting a bad tone for their big day . . . he kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, you know it'll take close to a half hour to get to her place," he yawned again, "and Jack will be up any minute anyway so I'll just make him some breakfast, get him dressed and go."

Suddenly realizing that she'd missed something important, Emily pouted as she pushed herself up to look down at Hotch again, "you're taking Jack with you _now_?"

That totally sucked! Her headache was gone and she'd expected to have both Hotch and Jack until the afternoon and then Hotch for the rest of the day. She understood why Hotch had to go, but she'd still expected to be able to keep Jack with her.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Hotch said apologetically as he touched her cheek, "I'd love to leave him with you but Haley's going to think it's strange if I don't bring our son with me."

It's not like Emily was on the custody agreement, or that Haley even knew that the two of them were a couple now. If he decided to just randomly leave their son with his "friend" rather than keeping him with his two parents, well, Hotch could only imagine the look on Haley's face there.

Something akin to him announcing he was from the planet Zoltar.

Of course the whole purpose of this early morning trip was to keep Jack out of a freezing cold house, so Hotch figured if he couldn't get the furnace going right away then he would just send his son and his ex off to Starbucks while he tried to track down a repairman. Worst case he'd call Rossi.

With his bank roll Hotch was sure that Dave had people on speed dial that would show up 24/7.

All of this made logical sense in his head, but Hotch could see that the previously sanguine Emily was now quite unhappy with this turn of events. And remembering her sadness of last night . . . and trying to ward off a return of that melancholy on their big day . . . he tugged her down into a kiss before rolling her beneath him. And while he was still keeping her occupied with the kissing, his left hand started a southern migration, sliding the Hello Kitty whatever it was, up around her waist.

Fortunately they never did track down her underwear again after last night's activities, so it was only a couple of minutes before Emily started to pant against his mouth

Which was the exact moment that Hotch heard a knock on the bedroom door.

"Daddy, Miss Emily," came Jack's sleepy voice, "I'm hungry."

Hotch stifled his groan . . . how was it that little children always had perfect timing for these things? But knowing that he couldn't very well ignore his son until they were done, Hotch reluctantly broke off the kissing . . . though he continued with his other activities . . . as he called over his shoulder.

"Be right there buddy! You go brush your teeth and I'll see you downstairs in two minutes!"

Given Emily's breathing pattern Hotch was pretty sure that he could wrap this up in that amount of time. And as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss . . . this time to cover her moans . . . all he could think was how much he was looking forward to getting this trip to Haley's over with so that he and Emily could have their talk that afternoon.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily turned as she heard Hotch hurrying down the stairs.

"Hey," she smiled at him over her shoulder before she turned back to put the cover on his travel mug, "I made your coffee."

He'd tried to tell her that she should go back to sleep, but after Hotch's very special good morning/apology for leaving present, Emily was wide awake and figured she should make herself useful while he took his shower. So she'd fed Jack and started the coffee.

She smiled as Hotch's clean, soapy smell filled her senses just as she felt him wrap his arms around her from behind.

"Thank you sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, "that was very nice of you."

With her being sweet and domestic . . . Hotch kissed her neck . . . it made it hard to remember why it was so imperative that he go help his ex-wife with her furnace problems.

"Daddy! I can't find Mr. Bobo!" Jack yelled from the top of the stairs.

Oh that's right . . . Hotch smiled against Emily's neck . . . he was going to help his ex because he didn't want his son living like an Eskimo. Not that there was anything wrong with Eskimo life, but Jack really didn't have the clothes for it.

Emily turned around in Hotch's arms, pressing her hands flat against his chest as she looked up at him.

"Mr. Bobo has already been collected and is safely secured for transport in the bottom of Jack's backpack."

One time Jack had left Hotch's apartment sans Mr. Bobo. Hotch had packed him . . . but unbeknownst to his father . . . Jack then UNpacked him again. They'd dropped Jack off at Haley's and then went back to Emily's place.

Two hours later Haley called Hotch's cell to say that Jack was in tears and did his father have any idea where Mr. Bobo could have gone. So from that night on, Emily was constantly on Mr. Bobo alert. She always packed the teddy bear up before Jack left and she always checked his bag as Hotch and Jack walked out the door.

There would not be another tear shed over Mr. Bobo on Emily's watch.

Hotch smiled at her as he directed his words up to his son, "Miss Emily already packed up Mr. Bobo buddy! You can come on down and we'll go see mommy!"

As Jack raced down the stairs, his fingers smacking against the metal bars . . . Emily and Hotch had both drilled into him the importance of holding onto the railing, but he liked the clanging sound better . . . Hotch leaned down to press a quick kiss to Emily's lips before they were in visual range of his son.

After he and Emily spoke this afternoon then Hotch would be able to tell Haley about the shift in their relationship. And THEN he could tell Jack . . . in a Jack friendly fashion . . . that they'd be spending even more time at Miss Emily's house. So by next weekend, all of those dominoes will have fallen and Hotch felt that his world . . . at least in regards to his personal life . . . should be in proper in alignment for the first time in years.

In the meantime though . . . he turned, slipping his arm around Emily's waist as Jack bounded off the last riser . . . still no kissing on the lips in front of the little guy.

"READY DADDY!" Said little guy yelled as he ran up to them.

Hotch's lips twitched, "me too buddy. Now say goodbye to Miss Emily and we'll get going."

"Bye bye Miss Emily," Jack said as he squeezed Emily's leg.

But that wasn't good enough for Emily . . . not having a whole day cut short . . . so she reached down and picked him up, squeezing his little body tightly to her chest as she whispered back, "bye bye baby. You be a good boy today while daddy helps mommy."

"I will," he nodded sagely as he looked over to his father, "daddy said I can't help though cuz it's dang'rous."

"Right bud," Hotch ruffled Jack's hair, "no helping today, but next week when we come to Miss Emily's you can help me make dinner, okay?"

Jack loved to "help." It didn't matter the task, he just liked to be included. Hotch was pretty sure that if he told his son he was going out to clean up dog crap off the sidewalk Jack would ask if he could hold the bag.

Hearing the cooking plans for next weekend, Emily grinned as she looked between her two favorite guys, "maybe we can make pizza on Saturday. That would be fun."

Anything with the two of them would be fun, but picturing Jack trying to spin dough was an image that she couldn't resist.

A moment after she started thinking about her plans for next weekend . . . for the future . . . Emily felt a terrible stab of fear about her doctor's appointment. She didn't know what was going to happen there, what he was going to say.

A few scenarios had been running through her head, and they were all really bad.

Emily's breath caught for a second as a couple of them slammed back into the forefront of her brain, but she covered that from Hotch by placing a quick kiss on Jack's cheek. And that touch . . . his soft little boy cheek touching her lips . . . it was enough to push the fear back again.

His innocence and sweetness always pushed away the dark.

"Yeah," Hotch smiled at Emily and Jack, continuing to talk as he walked over to get the jackets from the closet, "I think we could scrounge up a recipe for pizza," his eyebrow quirked up in amusement as he pulled his parka on, "and really, with the amount of pizza you consume in a month Emily it might be more cost effective if we started making our own."

Emily shot Hotch a look as she directed her remarks to the little boy in her arms.

"Your daddy thinks he's a funny man Jack."

"Daddy's not funny Miss Emily," Jack responded with a stage whisper in her ear, "daddy's serious."

"That's right Miss Emily," Hotch responded formally as he came over to help his son on with his jacket, "I'm serious."

His boy always had his back.

At that ridiculous statement . . . well, ridiculous off duty, the man had resorted to tickle torture on many occasions over the past few months . . . Emily stared at Hotch straight faced as he stared back.

Finally her lips began to twitch and he smirked, "you couldn't have thought you were going to win that contest?" He asked rhetorically as he started to pull Jack's sleeve on.

"No," she answered on a chuckle as she put Jack down so Hotch could fix his other sleeve, "no I didn't really think that I would."

Hotch gave her a little smile as he zipped Jack's coat up. Then he stood, pulling his son up on his hip as he leaned over to kiss Emily's cheek.

"If all goes well I'll be back in a couple hours. If all doesn't go well, I'll back by two." He squeezed her fingers, "I promise, no later than that."

Their reservations were at four and there was no way in hell that he was going to let Haley's house issues screw up his big date with Emily. It wasn't even 7:30 in the morning yet so he had plenty of time to check out the furnace and help Haley get situated. Absolute worst case, if the furnace was unfixably broken, he'd spring for a nice hotel for Jack and Haley to stay in overnight so that he could get out of her place without looking like the world's worst father.

Bottom line . . . Hotch took Jack's backpack from Emily's hand . . . there was no way in hell that the long overdue conversation wasn't happening today on time and on location just as he'd promised Emily it would.

Emily followed Hotch and Jack to the door, leaning over to give them each one more kiss goodbye before they left.

The last thing she saw as the door fell shut was Hotch mouthing, _'see you soon._'

And then they were gone.

She flipped the deadbolt and turned around to look at her now empty apartment.

The silence was deafening.

Okay . . . she took a breath as she started back down to the kitchen . . . well now she just had to find some way to keep herself busy until Hotch got back. Something to keep her brain active so she wouldn't have time to think about her appointment tomorrow.

Maybe . . . she huffed out a puff of air as she poured her coffee . . . she'd clean the house.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

It was just after twelve and Hotch was standing in Haley's basement waiting for the repairman (Dave's repairman) to finish up when he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket.

He pulled it out, his eyes crinkling as he looked down to see '_Prentiss'_ flashing on the screen. He answered the call with a small smile as he turned away from the other man in front of him.

"Hey sweetheart," he said softly as he walked across the dank space, "I think we're just about done here so I should be home in about an hour."

For a moment Hotch heard only silence before a strange voice came back through the line.

"Sir, my name is Jackson Shaye and I'm calling from the GWU emergency room. Am I speaking to a Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI? And do you know an Emily Prentiss?"

Hotch had frozen as soon as he'd heard the other voice, and it took him a second to respond before he whispered back, "yes, this is Aaron Hotchner, and Emily's my girlfriend," his free hand curled into a fist as he continued tensely, "is she was okay?"

Then he immediately berated himself for the stupid question.

'_Of course she's not okay you idiot! If she was then she would be calling you herself!'_

Getting a call like this was his worst nightmare. And the panic was clawing its way up, threatening to break his careful control. So he doubled over, taking slow, deep breaths as he dug his fingernails into his palm and waited for the answer to his question.

"Well sir," the man cleared his throat, "unfortunately I don't have much information. But I can tell you that Ms. Prentiss is alive but beyond that all I know is that she was brought here by ambulance with a head injury. She was unconscious when they brought her in but," he paused before continuing apologetically, "I'm not sure of her status now. I'm sorry but we've had an unusually busy morning here and things are a little hectic. All I have here are her admitting papers." He cleared his throat, "but sir, as your number was found in Ms. Prentiss' phone as her ICE contact, I hoping that you could please come to the hospital?"

Fighting down the bile trying to rise up, Hotch spun around, "of course," he started racing up Haley's basement steps, "right, I'm on my way."

Christ, he should have already been in the jeep by now!

Right before he dropped the call, Hotch added one more thing, "if she wakes up please tell her that I'll be right there." Then he jammed the phone back into his pocket as he slammed through the cellar door into Haley's front hall.

Some part of him realized that he'd just left the repairman alone in the basement, but no part of him gave a shit about that at the moment. As he ran through the living room and out the front door, his panic was nearly overwhelming him as every possible head injury scenario went through his mind.

_Did she fall in the shower? Was she in a car accident? Did one of their UNSUBS follow her home? Did he break into her apartment and sneak up behind her with a rope in his hand before he . . . _

Hotch slammed the door shut on that thought as he yanked his keys from his pocket. If he allowed himself to picture her being assaulted by one of the monsters in their files then there was no way he was going to get to the hospital with a shred of his sanity left.

So he tried to put all of those thoughts on pause as he focused solely on putting the key in the lock and then again into the ignition. Given that his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely line up the small piece of metal with the hole in front of him, Hotch knew that he really needed to calm the fuck down before he attempted to drive anywhere.

It would do Emily no good if he got into an accident on the way to the hospital.

He took two deep breaths and then dug down deep to put on his game face. Staying calm and collected when he was chasing serial killers was a piece of cake. Trying to do the same thing when he was scared to death over the well being of someone that he loved, that was not so easy.

Once he was sure he had pulled his shit together, Hotch turned the key, switched gears and peeled out of the driveway leaving rubber in his wake.

Just because he'd pulled himself back from the brink didn't mean that he didn't break every speed limit in Fairfax County trying to get into the city. At the first red light he was forced to stop at he did remember to send Haley a text message that Emily had an accident and he'd had to go to the hospital so the repairman was alone in the house. At the second red light Hotch saw his phone flashing and he opened it to find a message back from his ex.

'_Hope Emily's okay. Call me later . . . I'll say a prayer.' _

His eyes started to sting as he read the words but he shook that off. He needed to focus on his driving . . . and of course his own prayers.

All the way into the District he just kept promising God that he would spend the rest of his days working to be a better man if He would just give him this one break. If He would just let her be okay.

Though it was slightly foolish even to his own mind, Hotch thought perhaps because it was Sunday God might actually be more inclined to listen to his prayers than he would be otherwise. Either way as he pulled into the first empty spot he saw within jogging distance of the hospital, Hotch sent up one more quick prayer before he jumped out of the jeep.

Because now that he was actually there, the panic started to take over again. All of the things he wouldn't let himself think about while he was driving came roaring back once more.

He sprinted across the street to the sounds of horns blasting . . . please God let her be okay.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As Hotch skidded up to the admitting desk, the forward momentum of his sneakers made an uneasy alliance with the freshly waxed hospital floors.

Slightly out of breath from his sprint from the end of the block, he leaned on the counter as he rasped impatiently to the admitting clerk.

"Emily Prentiss? Where is she?"

He was not in the mood for any bureaucratic bullshit so he shot the woman the hardest, 'don't fuck with me' look he had. But rather than simply answering his question, the clerk . . . "Donna" he could see by her name tag . . . just smiled politely as she took in his flustered appearance.

"Your name please, sir?"

Hotch's jaw twitched as he fumbled for his ID, simultaneous with his effort so to conjure up a little patience for the woman in front of him.

As expected, he didn't have any luck in the patience department, so despite his best efforts he ended up snapping back his response.

"Aaron Hotchner," he flashed his badge in her face, "FBI. Now _where,_" his jaw clenched again, "is Emily Prentiss?"

Though most people cowered at that tone, Hotch immediately realized that it wasn't helping him at all with Donna. The brusqueness of his approach only got him a pair of pursed lips and a raised eyebrow in response.

Donna in her neatly pressed purple scrubs . . . and he now noticed . . . slightly excessive facial hair, clearly wasn't impressed with his tone, or his badge. And for some reason that bushy overgrown eyebrow raised incredulously at his conduct, is what snapped his panic back from the brink.

He was a profiler. He assessed people's behavior for a living and he was now going on round three of a simple inquiry with a woman whose _sole_ job was to provide the answers to said simple inquiry.

_Good behavioral read Aaron_ . . . he thought with disgust . . . _the woman's just doing her job and isn't looking for attitude from you just because you're in the midst of a personal crisis. She works in a hospital. Three quarters of the people she MEETS are in the midst of a personal crisis! Now just calm down and get your shit together. _

Twenty seconds passed during Hotch's internal dressing down, but it was enough time to get his head on straight. Before opening his mouth again he took a breath and began anew with deliberate calm.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner," he said slowly, "I received a call that Emily Prentiss was brought here this morning. She's my girlfriend and I'm her emergency contact. As you can see from my identification," Hotch flipped his badge again, "I work at the FBI. We both do actually, now would you please tell me where she is? The only information I have is that she was brought into the E.R. with a head injury of some kind."

All he wanted to know was where to find Emily, and if this woman didn't answer his question in the next thirty seconds, he honest to God didn't know what he was going to do.

The attending E.R. physician James Sullivan was walking up to drop off a chart at the desk when he heard the man at the counter identify himself and who he was looking for. And as he finished and the admitting clerk began to dictate chapter and verse on the forms that would need to be filled out while she attempted to determine the status of his "lady friend," the doctor saw the man start to turn red so he took the opportunity to interrupt.

"Excuse me," he tapped his hand on the other man's shoulder, "Mr. Hotchner?" When the man turned, Sullivan continued by identifying himself.

"I'm Dr. Sullivan. I admitted Ms. Prentiss," he gestured away from the desk, "why don't we step over here and talk?"

Now that he had a human being to talk to, Hotch's blood pressure started to drop.

Thank Christ . . . he thought as he fell into step next to the doctor . . . he was ready to throw Donna across the lobby!

As the two men moved to a more secluded section of the room, Hotch had to fight the urge to slam the doctor against the wall to get the answers he needed.

As it was, while they walked he shot his questions at the other man like they were coming from an M16.

"Where is she? What's wrong with her? Has she woken up yet? Can I see her?"

Sullivan's steps faltered as it took him just a moment to realize this fervid man at his side was quite attached to the doctor's new patient. And with this realization Sullivan put his hand on Hotch's forearm as he stopped him from walking.

They were far enough from the desk.

"Sir," he began in the soothing tone he used for distraught loved ones, "she's fine. She fell down the stairs," at Hotchner's wince he tipped his head, "yes, and she did lose consciousness for a brief period before she arrived here but she has woken up, she knows her name and she's completely lucid. Though she's pretty banged up, there are no broken bones and there don't appear to be any internal injuries. So aside from some soreness, some nasty bruises, and a possible scar from the stitches we had to put in her scalp, she shouldn't have any lasting physical trauma from this episode. She was actually very lucky that one of the other tenants found her so quickly. As you may know, scalp wounds bleed quite profusely and Ms. Prentiss took a nasty cut on one of the stairs. She most likely passed out more due to blood loss than the blow to the skull."

As Hotch's eyes started to burn at the mental image of Emily tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll, Dr. Sullivan seemed to take pity on him.

"But," he said kindly, "I'm sure that you want see for yourself that she's all right," he pointed, "we're still running some additional tests so we haven't moved her upstairs yet. Go to the end of this hall, take a right, first left and she's in room three way down the end. Given her earlier bleeding and the possibility of concussion, we'll be keeping her until morning at least. Discharge will depend on what her tests say regarding the underlying cause of her fall."

Though Hotch had started to calm slightly when he'd heard Emily's prognosis, that cold pit in his stomach froze over again at the doctor's last words.

Underlying cause of her fall.

Suddenly Hotch flashed on her falling onto the tarmac on Friday and then her sitting and crying in the dark last night. That bile started rising up again . . . what the hell was wrong with her!

"Excuse me, doctor," he said slowly, "what exactly do you think the underlying cause is for her fall today? Because, this is the second time this week she's fallen down a flight of stairs," his gaze locked on the other man's as he said quietly, "and my girlfriend is a bit klutzy at times but she's never done that before, and now she's done it twice in one week."

Feeling a pang of empathy for the confusion and growing alarm he could read in the man's eyes, Sullivan responded kindly, "we're not quite sure yet. But perhaps it would be best for you to speak to Ms. Prentiss directly on that matter."

Though he was listed as her emergency contact, it was clear that Ms. Prentiss had not informed her boyfriend of all her symptoms to date. And that did seem to be something that would be best coming from her.

At the doctor's words, Hotch stared at him for a moment longer before he broke eye contact.

His gaze dropped to the ground . . . clearly the doctor knew more than he was saying. What other symptoms had he missed? And why in God's name had she been keeping this from him? Why wouldn't she have told him if something was wrong?

'_Only she can tell you that Aaron_,' the little voice in his head reminded him quietly. And that's when Hotch realized that he was wasting time in the lobby when Emily was down the hall.

Down the hall, hurt . . . probably scared to death . . . and definitely all alone. So after a quick nod and a thank you to the doctor, Hotch took off at a run.

It took less than two minutes for him to find Emily's room, but it was two minutes sinking into an abyss as his brain ran through possible scenarios of what "underlying cause" could mean. He knew that if it was just something minor then she definitely would have mentioned it by now.

Inconsequential malaise was breezed over in casual conversation, only serious maladies were hidden away. So it was definitely something serious. His eyes stung . . . it definitely _had_ to be something serious.

_Shit. How was this happening to them now? Now when everything else was coming together so perfectly? Was this punishment of some kind? Were they just not allowed to be happy?_

Hotch was so intent on his mental torture that he almost ran past her door, but then the shiny brass of the number caught his eye and he stopped, turning abruptly. In the process he nearly tripped a man in the hall who barked an obscenity at him that barely permeated Hotch's consciousness.

He barged into the small exam room without so much as a knock, set to demand that Emily explain what was going on so that he could stop this horrible whirl of thoughts in his brain that he was sure were about to make him physically sick.

But then he froze just inside the door. His gaze caught on the slight figure of his girl curled up under a single white sheet.

It wasn't just that she was sleeping, but she was also nearly ethereal. Her wound was wrapped in gauze that actually appeared to be a healthier shade of white than her current skin tone. The visible bruises on her body . . . the new ones . . . were already coloring to violet, and as he took in the tableau before him, Hotch's eyes began to burn.

She looked small and fragile . . . she looked sick. His heart cracked simultaneously with the audible click of the closing latch on the hospital room door.

He couldn't lose her.

His appearance in the room had disrupted the flow of stale air in the dimly lit space. And as a result, he saw that Emily began to stir almost immediately after the door shut. As her lashes fluttered open, her eyes instantly made contact with his across the small room.

Emily licked her lips before croaking out a surprised, "Aaron?"

It took a moment, but as the implications of his presence here being that he'd been called out without her knowledge, Emily's voice got stronger.

"Oh honey," she winced as she pushed herself up slightly in bed, "they called you? I'm sorry," she bit her lip, "I didn't want you to find out from a stranger what had happened. I was going to call you myself so you wouldn't worry when you got back to the apartment and I wasn't there. But I guess I fell back to sleep."

Hotch just looked at her as she apologized to him. And he wondered how he had ever let it come to the point that she would think that his feelings would be paramount here. That he wouldn't want to be called immediately if she was hurt or . . . sick.

And with that last grieved thought, he felt the tears welling up.

"Emily," his voice was raspy as he cut her off, "you've fallen down the stairs twice this week. Please tell me why that happened."

As Emily took in the panic in Hotch's eyes she realized that he already knew that there was more going on here.

God damn it . . . she felt a wave of guilt and remorse . . . she should have told him last night. This was exactly what she'd been trying to prevent, him going crazy worrying the way she had been.

Now he gets called to the hospital . . . God knows what they told him on the phone . . . and she's wrapped up like Lon Chaney when he gets there. Great Em . . . her eyes started to sting . . . just fucking great job!

Saying that he was clearly upset right now was an understatement, so in an effort to soften the additional blows that were about to come she offered him a weak smile as she put her hand out.

"Honey, come sit with me. We need to talk."

He stared at her for a moment longer . . . they needed to talk. Nothing good had ever come after that phrase.

After he took a breath to brace himself, Hotch crossed the small room and sat down on the edge of her hospital bed. For a moment neither of them said anything, and then his hand unclenched from the fist in his lap and he moved it over to take her fingers.

Whatever was going on she obviously needed his support. He couldn't shut down just because that was the easiest way for him to deal. That was his old life, not his new one.

Once his hand was curled around hers, Emily took a deep breath and then began reluctantly telling Hotch about the symptoms she'd been having for the past month. Seeing his jaw twitch, she again apologized, her voice tainted with guilt as she explained that she hadn't meant to keep all of this from him for so long. That she hadn't realized herself that there was anything really wrong until after he'd gotten sick with the stomach bug. And then she'd convinced herself it was probably nothing major and she hadn't wanted him to worry needlessly. That it wasn't until the last few days when her symptoms started to appear more frequently that she'd started to accept that it was quite possibly something . . . serious.

Her voice caught on the last word and Hotch's fingers tightened around her own. But still he said nothing so she cleared her throat and continued.

"After you left this morning I wanted to keep busy so I wouldn't start thinking again like I did last night," she reached out and touched his cheek, "I know I should have told you why I was crying but I didn't want to ruin the weekend." Seeing him about to open his mouth she put her finger to his lips, "I know, it was stupid but I just figured it was only one more day. I was seeing the doctor Monday and then I was going to tell you what he said. So I couldn't think of any good reason to upset you when we still wouldn't have known what was wrong for another day."

She could tell from the set of his jaw that he didn't agree with her reasoning, and of course now if she could do it over she'd do it differently. But there was nothing to done about that so she moved back to the reason she was in the hospital today.

"So anyway," she took a breath, "you left and I took a shower and then started cleaning the house. And then," she took a breath, "I got another headache and then another dizzy spill. And I know I should have just gone and laid down, but I was," she bit her lip, "I was getting really scared and I knew that if I stopped what I was doing and just stared up at the ceiling I'd have a complete panic attack. So I decided to do the laundry."

"Aaron," she squeezed his fingers, "you need to understand that the fall, it wasn't really the, whatever, that caused it. It was entirely my own stupidity. I knew that I was dizzy," she explained, "and I knew that I should have just gone and rested. But I needed to keep busy so I went back into the bedroom, looking for something else to clean," she rolled her eyes, "I decided to wash the bed ruffle."

The bed ruffle . . . she thought . . . she was now lying in a hospital because of the freaking BED ruffle! God, it was so humiliating! And why didn't she take the elevator down to the laundry room? Of course because excess energy can be burned off running down the stairs.

As she thought about it Emily saw that she was really lucky that she hadn't broken her neck today.

Realizing that she'd been quiet for a few seconds, Emily continued aloud, "I was almost to the 6th floor landing when the world started to spin slightly to the left, and, well," trying to offset the tension, she gave him a nervous smile, "unfortunately so did my body because I then careened into the concrete wall," she sighed, "I guess I fell five or six steps but it happened so fast the next thing I knew I was at the bottom of the stairwell," her gaze narrowed slightly as she thought back, "nothing seemed to be broken. I lifted my head slightly out of the . . . at that point . . . small, yet unfortunately expanding, puddle of blood," she rolled her eyes, "damn head wounds. So anyway, I opened my eyes, I believe I muttered '_shit,'_ tried to push myself up and apparently passed out. I woke up in the E.R."

But," she looked up at him earnestly, "honey, if I'd realized they'd called you while I was out I would have had them call you back immediately to tell you I was going to be okay. I never meant for you to worry about me," her voice got husky, "that's why I didn't tell you any of this before. I was sure it was nothing, untreated sinus problem maybe, and I didn't want to make you worry about something that was going to get fixed up with some antibiotics."

Hopefully he would understand why she hadn't anything, because with everything else going on she really couldn't bear it if he was angry with her.

Realizing that she had nothing else to say, Emily tightened her grasp on his fingers as she looked up at him.

They'd maintained eye contact throughout her recitation, and it was unbroken even after she was finished. He hadn't said a word then, and he wasn't saying a word now.

The silence began filling the small room.

As she worriedly chewed on her bottom lip, Emily peered over at him. And she wanted to ask him what he was thinking, if he was angry with her for not telling him the truth earlier. But it wasn't right to push him, all of this was news to him . . . terrible news . . . and he needed time to process what she had said.

She would just have to wait.

And as she tried to wait patiently, Emily was pulled back into her own thoughts at the full realization of the repercussions of her tumble down the stairs. God, sometimes she was just so stupid.

She rubbed her hand across her face as she mumbled to herself about bed ruffles being the bane of her existence. After those words slipped out, Emily saw a sad smile pass over Hotch's lips. Then he shook his head slowly from side to side.

The head shake was the most movement Emily had seen from him since he'd sat down and it was enough to make her trail off her self flagellation.

He was ready to talk.

Hotch leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling back and asking the only thing that mattered to him in that moment.

"When will we know what's causing your symptoms?"

That swirl of thoughts and emotions that was overwhelming him when he'd first walked in the room was all gone. All that was left was that one question. Because once they had the answer to that one, then they could start to plan for the next thing.

What did they need to do to make her well again?

"Um," Emily cleared her throat, her gaze dropping down to their joined fingers, "I don't know. The doctor won't speculate right now. They did just a simple X-ray when I arrived to make sure that I didn't have a hairline fracture on my skull. And uh," her voice started to catch and she cleared it again, "after I told them about the other symptoms, and the fall the other day, they took blood for tests and the doctor scheduled me for an MRI. That's going to be sometime later today. He was rather evasive when I asked him flat out what he thought was happening. He said that after they had the results of the blood work they'd review them in conjunction with the other images and then he'd tell me what they found."

Emily was trying to be strong, to speak professionally and sound detached, but in actuality that cold pit of fear was sitting in her stomach like a lead ball.

She was absolutely terrified. Because the word that nobody would say was tumor.

And as her gaze came up to meet Hotch's again, she knew that was the word in his mind too. That's when her eyes started to water and she took a breath.

"Aaron," her voice broke, "I don't want to be sick!"

Why was this happening to her? Didn't God know that she had plans? That she'd finally found her guy? Her tears spilled over . . . they were supposed to live happily ever after!

Hearing the terror in her voice as the tears started to slide down her face, Hotch's heart ached.

"Oh sweetheart," he whispered sadly as he stroked his fingers down her cheek, "please don't cry."

He too was absolutely terrified, but he knew that he had to put aside his own fears to be strong for her. And he also knew that it was time now to have their other conversation.

It wasn't the location he'd planned for it, but that wasn't important right now. So he leaned forward and pressed another kiss to her lips before toeing his sneakers off.

Then . . . being mindful of her awful bruising and the tube running out of her hand . . . Hotch moved up to lie down in bed next to her. It was a little bit of a squeeze, but holding her would make her feel better.

It would make them both feel better.

As Hotch pulled her into his arms, Emily sniffled as she tried to stop crying. For a moment he didn't say anything, but then she heard him clear his throat.

"Today," he started softly, "I was going to take you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant, and I was going to do that because you deserved to have a perfect day," he kissed her cheek, "because you're my perfect girl."

Hearing her muffled sob, Hotch gently rubbed his hand across her stomach.

"Today," he continued whispering in her ear, "I was going to tell you so many things. Things I should have told you months ago but I was too afraid. Afraid that I was such a mess that if I said anything that I change would everything_, _and then somehow I would ruin this wonderful new life that we'd started building together," he winced, "but I was being a coward. And at first I thought I was just wasting time, but I wasn't." Feeling his voice about to catch, he cleared his throat, "because I wouldn't trade one minute with you. None of it was wasted time. You make me so happy Emily," he kissed her cheek, "you saved me and I wouldn't have survived this past year without you. You pulled me out of the dark. After Haley left I didn't think that I'd fall in love again. But then you and I started to spend time together, first a little, and then a lot. And the more time I spent with you, the more that depression and sense of loss were pushed aside," his eyes started to burn, "and then they were forgotten completely, because then I did fall in love again. I fell in love with my best friend."

Tears again streaming down her face, Emily turned to look at him. And when she whispered a husky, "me too," Hotch kissed her. Then he pulled back slightly to rest his forehead against hers, being careful to avoid the bandage on the other side.

"Okay," he gave her a little smile as he gently brushed the tears from her skin, "now we're official. We've talked. I love you," his lip quirked up, "you love me, and we're going to be happy and build a life together, agreed?"

"Agreed," she whispered back with a watery smile.

"Good," Hotch shot her a faint dimple before he sobered, taking a breath to steady his voice.

"Now as to whether or not you're . . ." he swallowed, "sick." His eyes immediately started to sting and he blinked quickly to keep the tears back, "we'll just pray that it is something as benign as what you'd thought originally. But whatever the doctors say is wrong we'll deal with it together," he gently cupped her jaw as his voice got husky again, "no more secrets, no trying to shield the other from worrying about things. All cards on the table, all the time, agreed?"

God, please let him get through this conversation without crying.

"Agreed," Emily whispered again before her voice cracked, "and honey I'm so sorry that I . . ."

But he cut off her apology with a kiss. When he pulled back he said softly, "it's okay sweetheart," he gave her a sad smile, "if our positions were reversed I probably would have done the same thing you did, kept it from you so you wouldn't worry. But," he sighed as he rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand, "we can't think like that anymore. If we want this to work we have to remember that we're an _us_. We have to support each other. And that means we need to tell each other when we're upset about something, big problem or small, it doesn't matter."

As he thought about the location where they were having this heart to heart, suddenly his eyes started to fill.

"And as to this particular problem," the tears began to pool and he blinked again, "whether it's big or small," his voice started to choke up as he squeezed her fingers, "I officially declare that no matter what it is, we're going to get you fixed up and in the end you're going to be just fine," he gave her a watery smile, "agreed?"

That was the only outcome. Even if she was sick, even if it was . . . he felt another stab of pain hit his already aching heart . . . a brain tumor. She would get better.

She HAD to get better. Because he could no longer envision living his life without her in it.

Eyes still wet, Emily stared at him for a moment before another tear ran down her face. Then she took a breath and nodded, "agreed."

"Okay then," he gave her a sad smile, "well," he sighed, "this wasn't exactly the date I had planned but I'll make it up to you later. When you're feeling better I'll do it right."

Emily reached up to touch his cheek. "You already did it right," she whispered.

All she needed was him, the rest of it was just gravy.

His eyes crinkled as he kissed her fingers, "okay then, next time we'll do it somewhere that doesn't have chunks of peaches floating in green jello as the main course on their menu."

Emily chuckled softly as she sniffed, turning to cuddle into his side, "okay, that sounds like a plan."

Even as she felt Hotch's arms around her, Emily couldn't stop the tears that started to trickle onto the soft fleece of his jacket. This was all she'd ever wanted, someone good and kind and strong who would love her for her. And now that she had him . . . and Jack . . . despite the promises she'd just made, she was so scared that it would all be taken away from her.

She felt Hotch press his lips to her temple again right before he whispered.

"Everything's going to be okay sweetheart. Just don't think about it right now. Think about the life we're going to build, all of the holidays that are coming that we'll be spending together," he lightly ran his fingers down her arm as he continued softly, "I was saving this as a surprise but," his voice lightened, "I have Jack for Christmas Eve."

As Emily listened to him whisper in her ear about Jack and Christmas cookies and Santa Claus, Emily's heart began to fill with love. It slowly pushed aside all of her worries and fears.

And when he paused and asked with what she knew was a false cheer, "so Santa's going to come to our house. Doesn't that sound good sweetheart?" for a moment, Emily just listened to the steady thump of his heart. And then a slow smile spread across her face as she whispered back.

"That sounds perfect."

His words . . . all of his concrete plans for the future . . . had reminded her in that no matter what the tests said, no matter how bad it was, there was still time. Time for them to make plans, time for them to live their lives.

And that was time that she didn't want to waste, or bide . . . but fill.

Though she was tired and sore and wanted to rest, Emily pushed herself up slightly to look at Hotch.

"I love you," she whispered.

Hotch stared at her for a moment before he winked.

"Ditto."

Her lips twitched as she settled back into his side. As she felt him kiss her cheek she closed her eyes and sighed. And when the nurse came in a few hours later to wake her up for her MRI, Emily knew two things. She'd dreamed happy dreams.

And Hotch still hadn't left her too small bed.

So when he stood up, turning back to try to give her a reassuring smile, she beat him to the punch by giving him one of her own. Then she tugged him down to press a kiss to his lips before she whispered.

"Everything's going to be okay."

Hotch took a breath and nodded as he helped her into the wheelchair, "right," he said brightly, "everything's going to be okay."

The words sounded sincere but he couldn't make eye contact with her. Fortunately he didn't have to say anything else because the orderly moved up and started to wheel her out. But then Hotch saw Emily turn to look at him over her shoulder.

"I'll be right back," she said softly as she gave him a little smile. And right before the door fell shut she blew him a kiss over her shoulder.

Hotch stared at the closed door for a moment before he took a breath and murmured to himself.

"Everything's going to be okay."

This time he believed it.

* * *

_A/N 2: That's the very end of Girl, hopefully it didn't disappoint. Clearly there was some pressure here to not let the ending suck wind :) so I was trying to pull in all of the elements of the story overall that I think made it what it was. The banter, the cuddling, the sweetness, the soul mate stuff, the family and the Jack, and bring that to the end. And bring it to a positive end though there is bad stuff happening. _

_The Hours will pick up with them a few days later after she gets her diagnosis. Even if you discovered this story recently it's been clear through the Author Notes that Emily's diagnosis is cancer. However, I do PROMISE that she lives! And it's not a weepy story either. There's of course "angst" in places but it's still the H/P you know you and love here, just facing new challenges in their life together. I have a draft of the opening done so that will hopefully be finalized and I'll begin putting that story up over the next couple weeks._

_Before that though I'll be putting up the flashback to Dave's 4__th__ of July BBQ. That story came to me just around Memorial Day, (it broke my writer's block) and it's epically long so it'll take a little time to proof. By next weekend though. Other stories I'm close to finalizing are Gingerbread and Making Spirits Bright. My muse has been busy, which is why I haven't posted even though I'm writing again in all my snippets of free time. I'm just writing prolifically all over the place! _

_And yes, I do promise that Fracture will be back soon. I know there's much interest and fortunately I'm starting to get that itch for it again, but given how close to done all this Girl stuff was/is, I wanted to get all these items lined up before I jumped into that other world again._

_***BIG PROMPTS ANNOUNCEMENT***_

_Kavi and I have put up a very cool (in our opinion :)) bonus in both our TV Title and Story Title Forums. We tossed out a ton of prompts to get summer "fantasy" episodes going to tide people over until the real ones comes back in the fall. Like the AU bonus there's also a related thread to put up story requests. Check out bonus #15 in TV Title to see all the specifics. _

_I also put up Father's Day prompts in TV Title and sometime this week Kavi will be posting our regular prompts in both forums. We also have special bonuses planned for next month that will be going up right at the first of the month. _

_Lastly, I know this world struck a nerve with a lot of people, and I've given that some thought because almost 200 people have this as a favorite story. That's a lot :) And I think maybe it's the idea that no matter how much baggage you have or what demons you carry, that you can still find your special somebody that will accept you as you are. That was what I wanted to kind of be the underlying theme here, you don't have to settle, you just have to be patient. So if you took that from this great, if you just enjoyed the story on face value, that's great too :) I'm just glad so many people have enjoyed it._

_And I wanted to thank everyone for all of their support and the lovely reviews and words of encouragement over the past 16 months that this has been going up. Can you believe it's been that long? Me either :) But I know some of you have been with me from the beginning so special thanks for sticking around. And again, as always, thanks to Arcadya for encouraging me to put up the original Hours story. One point two million words later and we're putting it up again :) _

_Have a good week everyone! _


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